Playing Hero
by Seyla
Summary: Tom finally reveals himself to Harry, but will the impending ransom note tell him who he truly is? And why does everyone want to sleep with Harry when Tom's the Veela? HP TR OOC parody slash not abandoned.
1. Dudley's Gang

warnings- slash, some angst, light-hearted fluff, a little violence, and a bit of language

Rated R

HP-TR

Playing Hero

part 1

"Let's drag him in here," yelled Dudley Dursley, pointing to the decrepit abandoned home at the woodsy patch on the opposite side of the park. Leading the way, he was being closely followed by Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, and Gordon towards the home. These four boys just happened to all go to Smeltings, and were all a part of Dudley's terrible bully gang that terrorized everyone in school, as well as most everyone they lived by. In their grasps, a smaller boy with jet-black hair was being trudged along with them, looking to be carried very much against his will. 

Looking up at the rickety old door as Dudley kicked it open, Harry Potter heaved in a well needed deep breath; something he hadn't been able to do after being punched repeatedly in the ribs over the last hour. "What's going on?" he managed to wheeze out, eyeing his cousin's sinister grin with worry. 

Dudley snarled at his undersized cousin as he held the door open for his four mates to drag him inside. "Gordon said you were looking at his arse earlier, you pouf. We're gonna teach you a lesson about checking us out!" He grinned, delighted in watching Harry's features contort into aghast fear.

"I did not! Let me go or I swear I'll tell the Order, Dudley!" yelled Harry, thrashing about in the clutches of the four boys holding him tightly by his arms and legs. 

"Take him upstairs and keep him quiet, I've got to go home and tell mum that me and Harry won't be home tonight," said Dudley to the others, wagging his eyebrows mischievously at his friends. 

~*~

Standing over his followers in deep discussion on the ultimate and permanent removal of muggle-loving old fools, Lord Voldemort glowered outwardly and blushed inwardly at all the 'under the breath' cat-calls and kissing noises directed his way. Not certain who exactly was making the noises, the rude gestures were flying from every direction it seemed, he ordered all masks to be removed at once. "Stop it. Stop making those noises! This is serious business," he cried frantically, feeling slightly less powerful in his new body; that of his 16 year old self, stolen from the destroyed diary Lucius Malfoy had retained once again.

Noting the wolfish looks on more than half his follower's faces, male or female, Voldemort cringed. "Meeting adjourned. Get away from me this instant!" He walked quickly to Lucius' side and grasped his upper arm. "Can I talk to you for a moment?' he whispered.

The handsome blonde's lips curled into a seductive smirk, his eyes scanned over the delicate fingers circling his arm. "Of course, my Lord. Would you like to talk somewhere more private... perhaps my place?" 

Voldemort goggled at him. His hands slipped away as he backed up a pace, feeling quite defeated. "This was a really bad idea, Lucius. No one is taking me seriously anymore. How can I get my old body back? You know, the really intimidating one that everyone averted their eyes to..." he said with a sigh, gazing down at his dainty hands. 

"Impossible I'm afraid, sir. This is your body now. You'll just have to learn to deal with it," Lucius loomed over the boy while he unconsciously wiped a bit of drool from his chin. 

~*~

"Bloody hell, not now..." groaned Harry. His scar lit up white hot, blurring his already blurry vision. He would have doubled over if he could have, but being tied to a bedpost prevented that from happening. He gritted his teeth to hold in the impending scream, not willing to give the four boys glaring back at him the satisfaction of thinking they had caused the pain. 

"What's the matter, Potter? Can't control those lustful urges?" chided Malcolm, glowering at the boy. "You looking at my arse?"

Harry rolled his eyes. He laughed to himself at the helplessness of the four cronies, fearful of making any moves without their pig of a leader there to direct them. He only hoped Aunt Petunia would disallow his request, at least for him to stay the night at Piers. Certainly she would know Harry would never want to do something that ridiculous. 

The pain in his scar flared up in intensity then, driving him to yelp loudly and uncontrollably. All four boys jerked their heads back toward him nervously as his cries filled the room. "Be quiet, Potter!" hissed Piers. 

His hands clenched into fists behind his back to take his mind away from the pain, wishing badly he could just rub his scar for a moment to help ease the suffering. He dug his bitten fingernails into his palms as the pain lingered. It seemed that Lord Voldemort was very upset about something. 

"Why isn't he gagged? I could hear him out in the park!" yelled Dudley. He huffed and puffed to catch his breath as he fell over onto the old, dust-covered mattress on the four poster. Gordon stood up abruptly with a look of intimidation on his face. Harry opened his mouth politely as the larger boy stuffed it with his dirty handkerchief. Might as well not upset the toadies any more than they seemed. 

"Guess what, Harry! Mum said we could spend the whole weekend at Piers house," said Dudley with a snigger, and Harry's heart began to beat wildly in his chest. 

~*~

Lord Voldemort rubbed his forehead as the impending pain began it's ritualistic dull throbbing once again. "That Potter kid needs to do something other than worry all the time. I swear that's all he ever does anymore," he said to Lucius, who in turn flitted his eyes over his Master sexily. Over the last month or so, every instance of that wretched boy's worries began to take a toll on poor old Voldemort, showing up in the form of a mind numbing headache.

"Let me kill him for you, Master. I can make it all better," he pleaded, falling to his knees in front of the beautiful black-haired boy. 

Voldemort stared down at him, jaw dropped open, not knowing what to do. He shook his head and whirled around. He walked quickly to his wardrobe and flung the doors open. He really needed to get out of there. "I... I think I need a little vacation. I deserve it, right? I mean... yes, I think I'm going to go away for a short time," 

"But where?!" cried Lucius as he crawled over to his master on his hands and knees. He prostrated himself as he reached his perfectly beautiful feet, worshipping them with his eyes. "Whatever I've done to upset you, I'm sorry! You... you should punish me, Master! I've been so naughty!"

"Huh??" exclaimed Voldemort. He jumped back in horror at the innuendo, unable to rationalise why all this sudden attention was directed at him. He had wanted his young body back, he desired it, yes, but merely for a longer lifespan. He had honestly forgotten how deliciously handsome he used to be. He had lost it so quickly after Hogwarts, dabbling in the dark arts, and at his sexual prime the only thing that had mattered then was power. Only power...

Lucius began tracing his fingers over his Master's toes as he licked his lips to keep them moist and puffy. "You could stay at my place. I've got loads of room, Master. My son and wife will be there... but I can send them away, that's not a problem,"

Rearing back in complete horror, Voldemort waved his wand over the wardrobe hastily. A large trunk flew out and landed on his bed, filling with neatly folded clothing plunging themselves into it. "No.. I think I'll just go somewhere private... get myself used to this new body. You understand, right, Lucius?"

The Dark Lord's second in command propped his head up on his elbows, pouting up at his master. "Well, no... I don't. But you are the master, I suppose it's okay if you take a bit of time for yourself,"

~*~

Malcolm stood face to face with Harry studying his features. "He looks like a girl, no wonder he acts like a girl, looking at my arse all the time..." he said to the others. Harry groaned in frustration. He was NOT looking at any of their flat or fat arses. And he certainly did NOT look like a girl either. 

"Yeah, he's a pretty boy. All poufs are. Look! He just looked at your arse as you walked away, Malcolm!" cried Gordon, pointing at Malcolm's arse. 

Harry spit the wad of dirty cloth out of his mouth. "You wish I'd look at your arses. I would never... ever, ever look at any of your arses!" he hissed angrily. 

Dennis reached into his backpack and pulled out a bottle of whiskey he'd nicked from his dad's liquor cabinet. "Look what I've got!" He held it up like a symbol of deity, and everyone ooh'd and ahh'd, clearly impressed. 

All five boys huddled up and began passing the bottle around, taking generous swigs of the whiskey between fits of coughing at it's awful taste. Harry leaned back into his bedpost with added worry, it was bad enough he was trapped with them, but now they were getting drunk. Nothing good would come from that.

~*~

"You little bastard, get over it!" whimpered Lord Voldemort, pressing his fingers over his temples to numb the ache. "Nothing in your pathetic life could be so worrisome."

He stood at the end of the street corner, not exactly sure where he had apparated to. Nothing looked familiar to him, he couldn't remember where he had concentrated on when he cast the spell either. The area looked quite... muggle in appearance. Houses lined the street looking exactly like the one next to it. A woman in a car stopped at the corner and stared through slits at him. Tempted to pull his wand free and hex her into oblivion, he opted to toss her a rude gesture instead. She gawked at him and snapped her lips together as she drove off. 

He looked down at himself and sighed. No wonder she was glaring at him, he was dressed up in his ceremonial robes. No muggle could ever understand the significance or the beauty they represented. With a sigh, he pulled it off and folded it over his arm. No need to attract more unwanted attention, he'd had way too much of that earlier that afternoon to last a lifetime. 

He stood there now in a pair of thin woollen trousers and a crisp linen shirt and tie. Glancing down the street he spotted an empty park that suddenly looked very inviting. In his while lifetime, he'd never visited a park, as much as he'd wanted to. A childish smile lit up his face as he nodded to himself. With his trunk safely shrunk in his pocket, he walked shamelessly towards the fun-looking area intent of gaining back some lost time. 

~*~

"I swear with every sip I take, he gets prettier and prettier. I think he just winked at me," slurred Piers. He winked back up at the bound and gagged boy struggling desperately to get free, clearly not looking in his direction at all. 

"Yeah, he sure is a cutie. Maybe he's really a girl and he's been tricking you, big D," said Gordon.

Dudley grimaced at them. "You guys are really foul, you know that?" He reached up behind him and punched Harry in the gut to make him stop moving so much. Sniggering, watching Harry's eyes screw shut in pain, he looked back at his posse. "He's a boy. I've seen him naked before. He's a boy for sure."

"You have?" enquired Dennis, swiping surreptitious glances at Harry's petite little body. 

Harry tried to spit the handkerchief back out, but the piece of rope that was tied between his teeth held it in quite effectively. His scar felt like it might burst open soon. He moaned in his throat, hoping someone might take pity on him, no longer caring if his noise was buggering them all. 

Malcolm crawled over to Harry on wobbly knees. Resting in front of him, his hand crept up Harry's bare leg to stroke the hem of his shorts. "Maybe we can see him naked too. It's not fair that only you've seen him, big D," he murmured hypnotically, ignoring Harry's whimpering at the intrusion.

"I agree!" said Dennis, clamouring over to Malcolm's side to see what was making Harry squirm around so much. Piers and Dudley shared a look of *shock* briefly, but turned around to see what their friends were doing anyways. 

Malcolm began fidgeting with the fringe hanging off the cut-off shorts, twisting it around precariously close to Harry's groin. Harry hopped up and down in place as much as the bindings would allow, unaware he was only exciting the boy more. His head was spinning out of control. The pain in his scar, the blurred vision from loosing his glasses, the fear pounding in his heart as the pissed boys began to fondle him was too much to handle. He began to scream into his gag, thinking maybe someone might hear him. Someone needed to come and help, anyone. 

His head lolled forward as a wave of searing pain scrambled his brain, a vision from Lord Voldemort clenching his fists in front of his eyes flashed in his head. The muffled words he tried to speak and seeing through the Dark Lord's eyes as he looked up to the very abandoned house he was in sent icy shards of icy fear into his veins. Harry looked down at the two boys kneeling in front of him unzipping his shorts, numb to their actions anymore. His eyes rolled back into his head, and he slumped against the ropes in a dead faint.

tbc


	2. The Escape

warnings- slash, some angst, light-hearted fluff, a little violence, and a bit of language

Rated R

HP-TR

part 2

Feeling his heart skip a beat, Lord Voldemort snapped his head to his right, facing the old house. The sounds of muffled cries rang out from the broken window on the second floor. His head pounded with pain, compiling with the horror-filled flashes of terror resounding from Harry Potter's mind. He stumbled off the swing he sat on, cupping his forehead with his hands. Each cry sounded more desperate, and each time he'd look at the house the pain only increased in volume. 

His breath came out in heated puffs as the insight opened itself up for him to see. He looked around at the street again. Muggle homes - in a muggle town. Why would he have come here of all places? What was he thinking about when he apparated? A small smile lit up his face then. He was thinking about that nosy, snotty, interfering little nuisance Harry Potter, that's who. 

The pain suddenly and abruptly stopped stabbing into his brain then, giving him a thorough start. He looked back at the house thinking if it might start again as it had before, but it didn't. He began walked towards the home, unsure why at first, but needing to know what was upstairs beyond that window. He pulled his wand free and held it at his hip as he entered the bashed in front door. 

Several voices emanated from the upstairs and Voldemort began climbing the steps quietly, not wanting them to know he was approaching. The act of surprise was always the best way to access a situation, and access it he would. Sounds of kissing noises and light, aggravated moaning rang in his ears. His heart beat quickly thinking maybe.. just maybe the source of his headaches was up there. He could almost feel the magical signature radiating out into the stairwell. 

~*~

"Put him on the bed," said Dudley. He stood over his followers, crossing his arms, spitting orders out like a drill sergeant. Gordon and Malcolm quickly began untying the knots holding the smaller boy to the ceiling-high post while Dennis and Piers held him steady. They tugged his shorts away as the ropes to his ankles were removed, leaving him clad in an oversized t-shirt and his boxers. Dudley was clueless, absolutely dense about everything other than making things bleed. "Why'd you take his shorts off?" 

Harry groaned in pain as he tried to open his eyes. The pulsing heat from his scar worsened briefly, then relented it's suffering as excitement flooded his veins. He smiled as the makeshift gag was yanked away from his mouth to let him breathe again, and giggled under his hand the very second he was allowed to touch his face. 

"He does that sometimes, ignore it. Mum says he's gone mad," Dudley motioned for Gordon to help carry him, and he complied hurriedly by grabbing Harry's legs and lifting him over to the filthy mattress. "Now let's just beat him up and go. I don't want to waste being this pissed on dumb old Harry. That party down the street at April's house needs to be crashed, don't forget."

Dennis and Malcolm gasped lightly, very much not wanting to simply beat him up and go. "We'll stay with him, Dudley. He shouldn't be left alone anyways. You three go on," blurted Malcolm. He clutched Harry's wrist harder to hold him down as Dennis did the same to his other. 

Lord Voldemort listened intently at the door as the two boys pleaded their case to stay with Harry. He shuddered with excitement. Harry was really inside, he was in there with only a few worthless muggles standing between them and him. He peeked in as they talked, eyeing Harry lying flat on his back in the spread eagle position, being held by four of the eeriest looking boys he'd ever laid eyes on; well, besides Crabbe and Goyle.

A sudden swell of pity, mostly in the form of a headache, filled his heart. Harry looked so utterly frightened and disorientated. Sort of how he looked that night in the graveyard when he was surrounded by himself and 30 Death Eaters. He also looked slightly... no. Voldemort shook his head to clear it. Harry _did not _look sexy. He was a stupid, skinny little boy who enjoyed tormenting him. He looked back at his legs. Long, long legs quivering under the hands holding them to the bed. "Pretty," he whispered in his hand, then cupped it over his mouth hard, unable to believe he'd just said that. 

Dudley shrugged and leaned over the bed to snarl at Harry. "You're going to have to crawl home tonight after they're through with you," he taunted, laughing heartily at the boy over his fate, stupidly unaware that he'd most likely only be able to crawl if they got what they really wanted from him. He stood back up and walked to the door with Piers and Gordon in tow. 

"Dudley! Don't leave me here, they're-" Dennis clamped his hand over Harry's mouth as the semi-coherent boy became suddenly very coherent and realised what they had planned for him. 

Lord Voldemort tiptoed into the darkness of the hall anxiously to let the three unwittingly smarter muggles pass without being seen. Dudley looked back at Harry once more without any understanding and shrugged. "Stop being such a baby. I thought you were this really powerful... well, you know! -- Good bye, Harry!" he shouted and left the room.

Malcolm grinned wickedly as he turned his attention back to his prey. He scuttled to climb on top of him while Dennis held him down, entranced and inebriated beyond rational thought any longer. He entwined his legs over Harry's thighs and leaned in closely to his face. 

"You even think about kissing me, I'll bite your tongue off," hissed Harry. He jerked forward assertively with a look of pure hatred on his face. 

'I should stop this...' thought Voldemort. He peered back inside as the two boys loomed over their victim, licking their chops, tossing out terrible threats of what they planned on doing to him. The large boy on top was grinding his hips into Harry's. The pain plunged back into his head, along with the feeling of sudden fearfulness in his heart. Not enjoying that emotion one bit, Voldemort straightened up and stepped into the room, wand at his side.

Harry looked over and squinted to focus better on the new boy entering the room. His scar burned as his eyes locked onto the intense green eyes looking down at him. Dennis and Malcolm turned around and growled at the intruder. "Who are you?" the both cried, holding Harry down harder to keep him steady.

"Harry is mine," he murmured, hypnotized by the boy on the bed. Had he never noticed how stunning he was before? He had certainly grown, those legs could wrap around his waist and lock on over his hips for hours... He looked up as the large boys began to shift off of the bed. Dennis twisted Harry's arms behind his back as he wrenched him off of the mattress and held him bent forward in front of him as a shield. 

Malcolm wagged his eyebrows at the taller but weaker looking boy, guessing that this must be Harry's cute little boyfriend since he knew his name and was looking at him the same way they were. He puckered his lips at the luscious beauty and cocked an eyebrow. "You want to join us, sweetie? We weren't going to hurt your little toy... much. You're more than welcome to come help us,"

"What?!" Taken aback at their lack of fear and the stupid look on that boy's face blowing him kisses, Voldemort held his wand up, letting a shower of violent sparks shoot up into the air. Only Harry seemed to flinch at them though. Brow furrowed, he curled his lip in a sneer. "That boy is mine. Let him go and I'll let you both walk out of here on your legs." 

"If you don't want to share you can just leave," said Dennis. He wrapped his arm around Harry's neck and yanked him up against his chest. He gripped under his chin then as Harry struggled to break away. "Are you with this bloke here, Harry?" He shook Harry's head for him roughly and looked up at the new boy with a grin. "See? He says he doesn't want you - so bugger off!"

"No wait! He can stay, Dennis. He's quite... striking, like the little pouf here is. I want him! To stay, I mean. Maybe we could have them touch each other -- or touch us..." Malcolm reached out to Voldemort with his hands, groping, wanting very badly to touch that flawless skin, but Voldemort heaved in a deep and furious breath. Oh no, muggles weren't going to humiliate him like his own flipping Death Eaters had.

"Blow kisses at me will you_? Crucio!" _he shouted, pointing his wand in Malcolm's direction, hitting him square on with the curse. He snorted out loud, watching him double over in pain, screaming. Dennis balked and dropped his arms from Harry. Voldemort whirled around and pointed his wand to him before he could run. "And where do you think you're going? _Crucio!" _he screamed again. Dennis squealed like a pig as he toppled back against the bed, flailing around like he was on fire. 

Harry fell to his knees, but Voldemort grabbed his hand and hauled him back up. "Let's get out of here," he said strongly. He dragged Harry from the room, leaving the curse to burn away at the minds and muscles.

~*~

Dragging the smaller boy out past the park and into the wooded area, he slowly began to realise Harry was not only following him willingly, but didn't seem to know who he was yet. The fear-filled headache drifted away into feelings of relief with each step. "Wait!" shouted Harry, giving his hand a tug and looking back at the park. "My glasses fell off over there, I need them-"

"No time for that," said Voldemort, not wanting to loose this lovely opportunity to kidnap Harry Potter away before he realised who was stealing him. 

"Where are we going? Who are you?" he asked. He yelped as broken twigs and rocks cut into his bare feet as they ran through the woods. The boy holding his hand refused to let go but he didn't care, he had rescued him from certain rape after all. He let himself get dragged further into the darkness without any of his questions answered.

Voldemort looked around carefully for any other signs of life before stopping. He threw Harry against a tree then and pointed his wand at him. "Don't move," He spotted a soda can lying on the ground and pointed his wand at it. "_Portus!"_

Harry stood is confusion, not really understanding what was happening. Didn't this bloke just save his life? Why had he turned so cold suddenly. His hand was grabbed, yanking him away from the tree. "On the count of three, we touch this together," said the taller boy, shoving Harry to his hands and knees in front of the can. 

"No," Harry shook his head, "Not until you tell me what's going on."

Rolling his eyes, Voldemort pointed his wand at Harry. "Have it your way then. _Stupefy!" _ He clasped his hand with Harry's, enlacing their fingers the moment he fell to the ground, and reached out with both of their hands touching the portkey.

~*~

  
"Er..." Lord Voldemort walked into his private bedroom with the unconscious Harry over his shoulder but stopped dead in his tracks. Lucius was lying on his bed with a mound of his boxers and undershirts piled around him, holding his favourite pair up to his face. 

Lucius bolted upright, undies flying around the room as he pathetically tried to conceal them. "My Lord, you're home so soon!" he exclaimed.

"I'm going to forget I saw that," he replied coolly, but looked sheepishly at the floor. "Umm, go away, Lucius. Don't tell anyone I'm home either." 

Lucius ran over to him as he noticed the body he was carrying. "Who's that!?!" he cried jealously, pain-filled eyes looking over the barely clad form of the boy's backside and shapely legs. "Is this why you won't come over? You've got someone new..."

"This is Harry Potter, you fool! I've just done what you've been trying to do for years. I went out and caught the little brat!" he spat angrily, and tossed Harry onto his bed.

"Oh, it is him! There's the scar... he's gotten bigger," Lucius leaned over the stunned boy intently with a furrowed brow. "What are you going to do with him?"

A shooting pang of jealousy hit him, watching Lucius tracing his finger over Harry's scar. "Mine!" he growled, then snapped his mouth shut immediately after as Lucius looked up at him with sad, puppy-dog eyes brimming with tears. 

Lucius fell to his knees in front of his master. "We could kill him together, Master. It would be beautiful. You and me... together. We could try one of those ancient, ritualistic lovemaking spells that sucks the life right out of him while we writhe around in ecstasy on your bed." He snapped his head over to Harry's body again, glaring daggers at him for lying there so comfortably; like he owned the place or something. 

"Ancient, ritualistic lovemaking incantations?? Is there even such a thing?" He stepped over Lucius to look at the books adorning his small library shelves. 

"We could invent it together, practice it, make it work, Master." chimed Lucius as he crawled behind Voldemort on his hands and knees. "Steal his power, drain his life-force, kill him..."

"Lucius..." Voldemort bent down and cupped his beloved Death Eater's chin with his hand. He looked nervously at the gorgeous blond, wishing he's stop making him feel so bloody uncomfortable about his new body. "I want to be alone for a little while. I wasn't able to have my holiday as you can see. I'm not entirely used to this whole thing. Do you think..."

Lucius held completely still with baited breath. His mouth fell open in his master's hand as his glittering green eyes peered into his own. "Anything, Master..." he mouthed, unable to find his voice. 

The sounds of impatient knocking at his door gave him a start. "Master, are you in there?" shouted Wormtail. "I've been thinking about what you said the other day about us getting a hobby. I've taken up sketching and was hoping you'd possibly model for me. Us! We've all taken up sketching you see, we're all out here... hoping,"

Voldemort swallowed hard in his throat and turned his attention back to Lucius. "Do you think I could stay at your private chateau for a few weeks... alone? I mean, after I've figured out what to do with Potter here. I haven't decided yet,"

"I'll take him, sir. I can keep him frozen until you get back. I won't harm him if you don't want me to," he replied quickly. His hand reached out to touch the hand holding his chin, but Voldemort pulled it back quickly and stood up. 

More angry knuckles began pounding on the door, vibrating it on it's hinges.

"No... I'll take him. You know how clever and lucky he is. I can't afford him a chance to escape, he'll have to come with me," He walked over to Harry and lifted him up in his arms. He glanced back at the door and hugged Harry tight into his chest to hide his obvious panting. "I need to get out of here, the door's about to fall down."

Lucius pointed his wand at the soda can he sat on the bedside table. "Can I come visit in a few days, Master? I promise I'll be very discreet!"

"Fine, yes, please hurry, Lucius!" huffed Voldemort, cringing as the door began to bow from bodies thrusting up against it. 

"Portus!" cried Lucius, turning the can into a portkey once more. "Go!"

"We just want to sketch you, Master!" screeched Bellatrix, her eye piercing right at him through a crack in the door.

"Oh my God..." Voldemort lunged at the can while clutching one of Harry's hands in his own. The door burst open as they touched it, but the normally hated tug behind his navel made him feel very good right then. 

Landing inside the main hall of the small chateau, Lord Voldemort tumbled forward, off-balanced from the weight of carrying Harry in his arms. He landed directly on top of him and looked down at the soft face of the sleeping boy beneath him. He lifted himself up on his hands and hovered over him for a moment, the urge to lean back down and touch those pink lips crossing his mind. 

He shook his head again but the thought remained. He leaned in closer, then cringed, feeling very much like those naughty boys that had Harry pinned under them. "I'm.. I'm Voldemort. I don't need to steal a kiss from anyone, let alone *_you*_. I command wizards twice as powerful as you to bend to my will!"

He cringed again. He sounded like a sodding fool. He stood up, leaving Harry on the floor, and walked around the chateau deep in thought about his plans for his new prisoner.

tbc


	3. Handcuffs and Silk Pyjamas

warnings- slash, some angst, light-hearted fluff, a little violence, and a bit of language

Rated R

HP-TR

part 3

Harry paced back and forth in the barred cage he had woken up in. He growled like a wild animal, baring his teeth at the blurry man standing so smugly in front of him. "At least give me some clothes to wear! Or do you get off on watching me walk around in my shorts? I'll bet you do," He wrapped his arms around his chest protectively and stood in place, scowling.

Voldemort shook his head, chuckling openly. "You're not intimidating in the least wearing nothing but your skivvies, I think I prefer you better this way,"

"So, who are you anyways? I'll bet you're a Death Eater... no, not even good enough to be a Death Eater yet, still a bit wet behind the ears. Let me guess, your big goal in life is to present me to your vomit-inducing master so he'll allow you to bow down to him and kiss his arse. Am I close? Striving for that mind-sucking tattoo to show off to your mum?" Harry spat on the floor in front of him, clearly revolted.

"Vomit inducing... what do you know about Lord Voldemort, boy!" he shouted back, pushing his face between the bars.

Harry's eyes lit up. "Oh, so brave, saying your master's name openly like that. They must have forgotten to teach you how to fear him, because Merlin knows how bloody frightening he is..." he taunted sardonically, rolling his eyes. 

"That's it!" Voldemort pulled his wand out from his trouser pocket and unlocked the cage door. Harry stepped back a few paces, guessing he'd said a bit too much. "I'm coming in there to kick your arse so you know!"

With a bemused chortle, Harry clenched his fists as the taller boy entered the cage and thrust his wand back into his pocket. He looked up --- way up at the boy looming over him aggressively and swallowed hard in his throat. He was really tall. Almost as tall as Lord Voldemort himself. "Yeah, not so brave now, are you?" 

Harry narrowed his eyes. "I'm not afraid of-"

Voldemort threw him up against the back of the cage and held him by his shoulders. "Listen to me, Potter... I've just had the worst week of my life and the last thing I need to hear right now is your sodding mouth." He leaned in, pressing his forehead hard against Harry's. They both gasped as a light flicker of magic gave off a painful shock between them. 

Both boys threw their hands up to their forehead, rubbing the sting away. "What was that?" grunted Harry through his teeth, his scar burned painfully under his hand. He looked up at the tall boy again, more closely this time, a trace of remembrance flitted in his mind. He reminded him of someone he knew, someone he had met and didn't like very much. Maybe he went to Hogwarts and just hadn't noticed him well enough before. "Do you go to Hogwarts?" 

"I did. I graduated a long time ago," said Voldemort with a smirk. As much as he'd love to keep the facade of being someone else up, he knew Harry wasn't unintelligent, he'd figure it out sooner or later. 

"How old are you? You look young, well without my glasses it's hard to tell exactly," Harry squinted each eye as he stared up at the pretty, rounded face closely. So familiar... Green eyes, jet-black hair. 

Harry was so close, peering into his eyes. He really was very adorably cute. Voldemort swallowed hard and leaned in a bit so his nose grazed the messy mop of black hair covering Harry's forehead. Inhaling his scent, he sighed unconsciously before grasping what he'd done. Blushing, they both stepped back a pace and looked at the ground in silence. 

Voldemort cleared his throat and looked back at the boy he decided he didn't want to kill right away anymore. He smelled kind of good too. "Are you hungry? I could get take-out,"

Harry nodded. 

"Okay then, I'll do that," He stepped out of the cage and slammed the door shut. He turned around and looked back. "This is just for protection, you know. I don't want you running off. Maybe if your very good.. well, we'll see."

~*~

Sitting on the floor outside of the cage, Lord Voldemort propped his elbow on his knee and leaned his head into his hand as he watched Harry pick at his dinner. "Not hungry?" he said finally, not feeling the need to eat in front of him when Harry refused to eat. 

"You're kind of staring at me..." murmured Harry. He sat with his knees tucked under his t-shirt, arms wrapped around them, staring back at the black-haired boy. 

"Oh..." 

"But thanks... it looks good, and all," 

"Then eat it, it's getting cold,"

Harry looked down at his plate. He was hungry enough to eat anything, and the food sitting next to him smelled so good he nearly drooled down his chin. Unfortunately, his silly Gryffindor pride refused to let him eat like a dog in a cage for the boy outside to gawk at. "No, thanks,"

Voldemort rolled his eyes. "What's the matter. It's not poisoned or anything. If I wanted to kill you I would have done so hours ago,"

"I know that," said Harry.

"Then eat it. It's poule au pot, prepared perfectly. It's a simple meal, I thought you might appreciate that," He sniggered to himself, but Harry didn't seem to think it was funny.

"Looks like chicken to me..." Harry crinkled his nose up and looked away, pretending he had no desire to eat it. 

With a sigh, Voldemort understood finally. He picked his plate up and unlocked the cage door. "Come eat with me in the dining room," he ordered, cocking his head to the doorway. 

Harry picked his plate and glass of wine up as he stood. "You sure? What if your master finds out?"

"Shut up and get moving, smart ass," he growled. 

~*~

"So.. when did you decide you wanted to throw your life away and become a nameless servant to a snake-headed halfblood?" slurred Harry, between large gulps of his sixth glass of black wine. 

Voldemort pursed his lips. "When will you realize your Headmaster is a sick old fool who's ideas about a world breeding with muggles will get us all killed off?"

Harry stopped talking as he looked around the very lavishly furnished room, only just noticing it. His eyes scanned over plaques and crests covering the walls and china, all adorning the name 'Malfoy' on them. His breath began to accelerate as he realised he was in Lucius' vacation home. A moving photo of the immediate Malfoy family hung to his right, all three members glared back at him for sitting in Lucius' head chair.

"What's the matter, Harry?" said Voldemort, hiding his giggles under his napkin as he dabbed at the corners of his mouth.

Harry looked back at him worriedly, giving Voldemort a severe throbbing pain in his temples. "This place... this is Malfoy's home,"

"Yes, it is. He said I could use it for a few weeks. I've taken a holiday," 

"Holiday? But Malfoy.. he's a high ranking Death Eater. He wouldn't lend his home to..." He paused in confusion and licked his swollen, cherry stained lips nervously, leaving them parted with panting breaths. "Does Lucius Malfoy know I'm here?"

Voldemort nodded. Harry paled. "Yes, of course he knows you're here, Harry. Why do you think he lent me the place?"

He swallowed hard and licked his lips again, entrancing Voldemort as his tongue played along his top lip. "And... and Voldemort? Does he know?"

Again, Voldemort nodded as he snapped out of his blatant stare, delighted in watching the remainder of Harry's blood drain out of his face. "Yes, he knows all too well that you're here. He brought you here, himself," he boasted, unable to hide his smirk.

"He did?" Harry was breathless, panting for oxygen through that pretty mouth. He fell forward and gripped the edge of the table for support as his throat closed up from the tight ball forming within it. Too many glasses of wine, too many bad things happening in a short amount of time...

Voldemort sat forward, cringing, feeling slightly penitent. They were having such a lovely conversation up until now, taunting one another, poking fun at their friends, watching every single unconsciously erotic movement Harry made...

"Hey... it's okay, Harry. Calm down, they aren't going to hurt you," He reached out to pat his shoulder, but Harry flinched back. 

"What do you mean - are you mad? Of course they're going to hurt me!" he cried, staring at the boy in shock. He dropped his head in his hands, mumbling incoherently. The names Dumbledore and Dursleys could be made out, but everything else was rambled under his breath. He sat back up, teeth gritted, eyes narrowed into slits. "How did you manage to find me anyways?"

Voldemort shrugged. 

"Oh, I'll bet you're so proud of yourself. I never wanted to be a part of this, I was never asked my opinion about any of this. No one tells me anything... _Just sit there, Harry, be a good lad and keep your nose clean... that's our boy_!" he hissed, disgusted. "Can't you just kill me or and get it over with? I don't know anything! They won't tell me a goddamn thing because the bastard can read my mind!" His voice shook, his body mimicking it. He was livid, his eyes were wild; glowing bright green. His skin was white, the perfect contrast to his dark red lips and jet-black hair.

Voldemort was entranced. He looked... absolutely beautiful.

He stood up and walked to Harry's chair and seized the hysterical boy by the arms. He pulled him up abruptly, catching him by surprise. "Stop this! I told you they won't hurt you. I won't allow it," 

Harry shook his head, nearly fainting right then in his arms from the light-headedness. "And how can you say that? Who are you?" His head lolled back and his knees bucked under the strain. First Dudley's gang, being kidnapped, and now this. Voldemort scooped him up and tossed him over his shoulder as Harry passed out cold the moment his feet left the ground.

~*~

"Not much of a wine drinker, are you?" Voldemort cringed as Harry clutched the toilet again, seeing his knuckles turn white from gripping it so hard.

Harry whimpered in his throat as the newest wave of nausea turned his stomach. He shook his head as he sat back on his heels. His fringe was plastered to his face from sweat, his eyes watered from retching. "Never drank anything before..." he panted, catching his breath. 

"I'll have to keep that in mind. It hadn't occurred to me you were only 15,"

"I'll be 16 soon, in... I don't know, what day is it?" He tipped his head back as Voldemort rubbed his face with a damp cloth to wipe the remaining vomit and sweat away. 

"It's July 27th, four days," he replied coolly. 

"Yeah, if I live that long," snorted Harry. 

Voldemort smacked his face with the cloth. "I told you to shut up about that. Now let's find you something else to wear. You got sick all over your t-shirt," 

They stumbled back into the bedroom on shaky legs, Voldemort holding him under his arms for support. He sat the smaller boy down on the edge of the bed and walked to the wardrobe. Every single article of clothing hanging inside was made of the finest materials, perfectly tailored for Lucius. It would probably swallow Harry up but he had little choice. Grabbing a pair of silky pyjamas, he tossed them to Harry and ordered him to take his clothes off. 

Harry pulled his t-shirt off and dropped it on the ground. He nearly got one of his arms into a silk sleeve, but fell to his side as sleepiness took over. Voldemort huffed and stomped over to the bed. He finished pulling the top on and buttoned it up. "Good enough," he muttered, and hauled Harry up to the head of the bed. 

He grabbed the bottoms up and stripped down. He pulled them up over his hips and smiled as they hugged softly against his skin. He walked to the door and looked back at the pretty boy, wishing he could stay in the room with him. 

He shrugged, why couldn't he? He locked the door with several locking charms and walked back over to Harry's side. He pointed his wand at a book on the bedside table, transfiguring it into a pair of handcuffs. "Sorry, love," he whispered as he shackled the sleeping boy's left wrist to the bedstead. "Can't trust you to not go for my wand, you'll understand, I'm sure."

He climbed over him and laid down on the opposite side of the enormous bed, tucking his wand under his pillows. 

~*~

Lucius Malfoy apparated into the foyer of his chateau. His hair was badly tussled, his clothing torn in several places. He spit the remnants of Veritaserum out of his mouth, thankful he got away before the others had a chance to get the location of his holiday home. He reached into his cloak pocket and retrieved the shrunken bottle of champagne and bouquet of white roses his master was always so fond of. 

Returning them to their original state, he tiptoed through the house to seek him out. Passing the obviously empty cage, he frowned. Maybe that Potter kid had escaped. Maybe his master was hurt, maybe dead! He panicked and dashed off, looking for any signs of a disturbance.

Seeing his private bedroom door locked and warded, he yanked his wand free from his cane and quietly unlocked the door. Ever so carefully, he eased it open, slowly turning the knob as the pressured the balance with his shoulder. 

Harry was sitting up in the bed, a mischievous look played on his face as his hand disappeared inside Voldemort's pyjama bottoms. Lucius stood in horror watching the boy lean in closer, groping deeper under the waistband as his master's face lit up with an adorable smile curling on his lips. 

"Mmm, yeah. Just like that, baby," mumbled Voldemort, eyes closed, writhing around, lightly bucking against the hand. Harry giggled childishly and moved his hand around, evidently massaging his inner thighs now.

Lucius threw the door open in a frenzied blaze of fire. "How dare you!" he exclaimed, catching Harry off-guard and Voldemort startled out of his deep sleep. The Dark lord sat up quickly, trapping Harry's hand further inside his pyjamas, looking down in horror at his lap.

"What's going on!?!" he screamed, and snapped his knees together.

Harry jerked back violently, trying to get his hand free -- but it was stuck. Defeated and terrified, he sighed and fell forward into his pillow; one hand handcuffed to the bedstead, the other trapped between Voldemort's thighs. 

Voldemort looked over to Lucius and held his finger to his lips and Lucius nodded in understanding. "Harry.." he whispered, carefully removing the boy's hand away from his pyjamas and laying it down next to him, "mind telling me what you were doing?" Harry sighed again in his pillow. He muttered something unintelligible, but Voldemort and Lucius only shook their heads in confusion. "What was that?" he asked again, a bit louder.

Harry looked up at him in humiliation. "I said I was looking for the key! There, happy?" He threw his head back into the pillow. 

"Are those my pyjamas?" said Lucius angrily. He dropped the flowers on the ground. "You're both wearing my pyjamas, in my bed, hands in each other's shorts, in my bed!"

"He's going to kill me..." whimpered Harry, burying his head further into the pillows. 

"Lucius, give us a moment," said Voldemort. He looked at the bottle of champagne hanging limply in his hand and smiled. "Oh, how sweet. For us?"

"Not anymore..." he grumbled and walked out of the room.

Entwining his fingers in the mass of jet-black hair, Voldemort lifted Harry away from the pillow. "Why were you looking for the key?"

"Because I have to use the loo really bad," confessed Harry.

Voldemort sighed and pulled his wand out from beneath his pillow. "Why didn't you just wake me up?" He waved his wand over the handcuffs and they fell away, turning back into a book as it hit the floor. 

Harry dashed off into the toilet and slammed the door. 

Half an hour later Voldemort stood impatiently outside of the door, knocking on it for the fifth time. "Are you coming out?"

"No," said Harry.

"Why not? I saved your life, remember? Why don't you trust me?" cooed The Dark lord against the door.

"Because you kidnapped me, locked me in a cage, made me sleep next to you while handcuffed to Lucius Malfoy's bed, that's why!" screamed Harry back at him.

Green eyes lit up crimson. "I'm not the one who put my hand down your pyjamas while you slept!" 

"I was desperate!"

Voldemort's jaw dropped open. "Is that an insult? Get out here this instant or I'll break the door down!"

Harry threw the door open and stood there in his oversized silky blue pyjama top, looking very angry. "How come you can order Malfoy around like he's below you if you aren't even a Death Eater yet?" He grabbed Voldemort's left arm and flipped it over looking for the Dark Mark. 

Voldemort pulled his hand away. "None of your business, boy. Now get back in bed, I need to talk with him.. alone!"

Harry smirked. "He brought you flowers. I think I get it now,"

"Oh, shut up," hissed Voldemort. He gripped Harry's arm and dragged him back to the bed. Transfiguring the book back into handcuffs, he wrenched both of Harry's hands above his head and straddled his lap to hold him still. He snarled down at him once he was secured in place. "Now keep quiet and just go back to sleep or something!"

Dropping his head back into his pillow after watching him leave, Harry chewed on his bottom lip worriedly. Malfoy was here, it would only be a matter of time before He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named made his appearance...

tbc


	4. Another Troublesome Malfoy

warnings- slash, some angst, light-hearted fluff, a little violence, and a bit of language

Rated R

HP-TR

Playing Hero

part 4

Lucius paced around his parlour looking quite depressed. The more he thought about his master, the more he wanted to cry. Never before had the man given him much reason to divert all his attention to him, besides the obvious fear factor. What was he thinking!?! He was a married man for Merlin's sake! What if Narcissa decided to pop in and entertain a few guests? It wouldn't be unheard of. 

And his son, Draco, he was absent. Off skiing on the Alps with his friends. He'd been known to show up unannounced with 10 or 15 people to have a good time at his expense, tearing the summer home up, leaving it for him to repair. He felt like he was doing something very naughty, hiding his gorgeous master in his holiday home and keeping a 15 year old boy prisoner along with them. Perhaps he was...

Sure, that Potter boy was attractive, quite attractive to be honest. He had to admit the first time he laid eyes on him he felt the stinging warmth of a blush flush over his cheeks, pants swelling at the crotch, the regular routine when something tempting graced his vision. So small and fragile looking too, so deliciously yummy. Too bad he glared back at him with hate-filled brilliant green eyes, sealing both their fates forever. Oh, how he'd love to walk into the bedroom and slap that pretty little face at that moment. 

"Lucius," 

Whirling around, he stood in front of his master, clad only in a pair of his silky blue pyjama bottoms. With a relaxed sigh, the worries drifted away as he glided over to him and kneeled to kiss his hand. "Did you kill him?" he said hopefully, batting his eyelashes.

Voldemort snorted and shook his head. "No, stop that talk, Lucius. He's... damn he's giving me another headache. I need to figure out a way to put a stop to that," He rubbed his temples gingerly, but Lucius guided his hands back down and began rubbing them for him.

"If we killed him I'm pretty sure they'd... Okay, I'll stop that talk," He looked away as Voldemort glared at him. He massaged Voldemort's forehead with gentle fingers until he moaned out contentedly as the pain faded away. "Better, my Lord?"

"Yes, thank you. Now, sit and listen, I have something interesting to tell you," Lucius dropped down in a chair as Voldemort sat across from him. "It's so amazing. That kid has no idea who I am. None whatsoever. I'm not going to ruin the fun yet, so don't spoil this for me."

"What is he, an idiot?" said Lucius, tilting his head in confusion. "How can he not know? Who in the hell does he think you are?"

"Er, he thinks I'm a Death Eater in training who sleeps with you to let me use your chateau," he confessed, shrinking down in his seat.

Lucius smiled brightly. "Oh! We should prove it to him. I mean, you know, to keep up the facade. Then we can give him to Draco. Yes, Draco would be very keen on that. He'd love having that little prat as a pet. He always said if he ever got his hands on him--"

"Lucius..." growled Voldemort. "I thought you were a married man. And who's watching the Death Eaters right now? They could be in my room touching my stuff. Or out doing things that give me a bad name. You should really be getting back, don't you think?"

With a sob, Lucius looked down at his clothing. "I had to leave, they hurt me,"

"Oh no!" Voldemort stood up as Lucius did, embracing his hysterical second in command with a comforting hug. "There, there. I'll make them pay for what they did to you." He petted the long, silky white hair pressed against his upper body, coaxing Lucius to let it all out. 

Lucius clutched on very tightly, nuzzling his cheek up against that flawless pale flesh, milking every ounce of sympathy he could. He massaged up against his hairless chest, rubbing, caressing, stroking it with his lips and cheek. His tongue darted out, giving it a taste, but Voldemort felt it and shoved him away. "Hey, I was trying to be nice!" he hissed angrily, wiping tears and saliva off of his pectoral muscles. 

"I'm sorry," he whined, sniffling and hiccupping in uncontrolled spurts. "I just can't help myself. I don't know why..."

Voldemort smiled sadly at him. "Why don't you come back in a few days after you've made certain everything is going well. I just can't trust those psychotic maniacs alone for too long. Plus, I want to hear news of Potter's disappearance. I want everything, who they think has him, what happened, etcetera. Okay?"

"Yes, Master," Lucius wiped his face with his sleeve and disapparated away.

~*~

Lord Voldemort waved his wand over Harry, releasing him from the bed. Harry sat up quickly and rolled off the mattress. Voldemort heatedly pointed to the bathroom and instructed him to get clean while he searched around for clothing. 

Harry walked to the toilet shakily. He turned to look back at the other boy intriguingly. "Where's Malfoy? Isn't he-" 

"He left. I told him to leave us alone for a few more days," he said, gazing through the wardrobe against the wall. He held up several articles of clothing that would swallow Harry up and barely cover his calves. "Oh! Forgot I brought a truck," He ran to his cloak and pulled his trunk out. 

Harry watched him carefully as he sifted through his clothes, his eye catching the gem-encrusted, embroidered ceremonial robe of black and forest green velvet. "What's that? Looks familiar,"

"I thought I told you to take a shower," growled Voldemort, shoving the robe into the bottom of his trunk. 

"What's your name?" asked Harry, standing his ground in the doorway. "You never told me."

Voldemort's eyes grew huge, but luckily he was facing away from the boy. "Erm... my name? It's- it's Tom," he said quickly, keeping his attention at his trunk. 

"Oh, okay then," said Harry, stepping into the bathroom. He stopped and turned. "Tom what?"

"You don't need to know every goddamn thing about me, boy. Take a bleedin' shower!" he hissed. 

"Sorry," 

Harry closed the door behind him and leaned his back against it. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, wishing he had his glasses. Orange light filled the white room. Harry looked out the small window, the sun was setting just above the trees. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, letting the warmth comfort him. 

His eyes snapped open. 

A window. 

He was standing in front of a window without bars on it. 

~*~

Rifling through Lucius' only child's room, Voldemort found several things that would probably fit Harry a lot closer, although the young Draco was taller than he. Still, trousers can be rolled up. He walked casually back into the master bedroom, listening to the shower running, watching the steam billow out from under the crack of the door. 

He sat impatiently on the bed, fidgeting with his wand, waiting for his turn to use the loo. The headache was gone, he felt almost giddy inside. 'Harry must be in good spirits' he thought to himself. He remembered seeing an adjoining bathroom in Draco's room and walked back out, locking the bedroom door behind him. 

Showered, shaved, powdered, primped, fragranced, and dried, Voldemort walked back to the bedroom dressed perfectly and unlocked the door. He froze, hearing the shower, seeing the steam. He'd been gone nearly an hour, surely Harry wasn't as meticulous as he was. Certainly not with that wild mane of hair of his. He stood there silently for a moment, breathing hard through his nostrils. 

Voices rang out behind him, giving him a start. Someone else was in the chateau with them. He clutched his wand and hurried out into the parlour, shocked as he walked into Draco and his two friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking quite drunk and obnoxious. All three were holding half full bottles of wine in their hands, chatting loudly and staggering as they attempted to wipe the floo soot from their ski outfits.

"Who are you?" sneered Draco, looking the taller boy up and down over his pointy nose. He took a large swig of wine and wiped his face with his sleeve as he approached the handsome boy. 

Voldemort swallowed hard. He looked back anxiously at the master bedroom down the hallway. "I'm umm.. a friend of your fathers. He said I could stay here for a few weeks," His eyes remained locked onto open the bedroom door, praying Harry didn't walk out. 

Draco threw on a seductive smirk. "Are you one of my father's whores? He doesn't normally allow his little girlies to stay here when he's away." He reached out with his hand, pressing his palm flat against The Dark Lord's pectoral muscle. "Mmm, nice and firm. Father does has exquisite taste,"

Goyle gave him a wink. "Yeah, sure does, he's a pretty one," He and Crabbe moistened their lips with drool as Draco curled his lip up in a lusty snarl. All three boys reached out, curling their fingers into claws to cop a feel.

"Did you just call me a-" Voldemort jerked his head back to their direction and slapped their hands away. "Touch me again and I will kill all three of you - with pain! Long, slow, bleeding from every orifice-pain. Got it?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "I see Father still enjoys the sadistic ones. Let's go to my room, he's no fun,"

~*~

Unlocking the lavatory door with his wand, his worst fears were confirmed; the window on the west wall stood wide open, and Harry was gone. 

The sky was darkening, the sun had set fully. Thrust into a panic, he grabbed his cloak and ran to Draco's bedroom, poking his head through the open door. The boys sat idly on Draco's bed playing a not so friendly game of exploding snap. "Can you tell me what's outside of here? I portkeyed here, and well Har--- _my friend _went for a walk and hasn't come back yet. He's got an hour's head start -- _I mean_, he's been gone for an hour. I was wondering if there was anywhere he might have been able to escape to -- _I mean _reach, you know... to call for help or something." He tried to remain innocent looking, but none of the boys either cared or didn't notice.

"Umm just a lot of woods. It's hundreds of miles from any sort of civilization," said Draco, tossing a card at Goyle as it exploded.

His eyes lit up gleefully. "Ah, great! Er, that's terrible, I hope he's all right. I'll have to go find him," 

"Want us to help?" asked Draco, fanning the awful smell of burned hair away from his nostrils. Crabbe cringed as Goyle fell off the bed, then shrugged, happy it wasn't him this time.

"No! I can find him. You stay here. Thanks, though," Voldemort ran out to the back door, leaving it wide open as he surveyed the angle from the window to the woods. He wrapped his cloak around his shoulders and headed out where all the brush had been disturbed. 

~*~

Harry held in his sobs, determined not to cry. There was no turning back now, Tom would kill him if he caught him. Wolves bayed at the moon, brambles snagged his pyjama top and cut into his bare legs. Dead leaves crackled loudly with each small step. His scar had been burning for nearly 10 minutes, causing him worry. Perhaps Voldemort had found out he'd escaped and was angry. Maybe he was looking for him, maybe he punished Tom for being too thick to lock the window in the toilet.

He stopped dead in his tracks feeling extremely guilty. What if - hundreds of scenarios ran through his head. He could have just gotten that boy killed for escaping. Tom; albeit being a Death Eater sycophant; was a pretty decent bloke who did save his life. 

"Sod it," he murmured and trotted off again, ignoring the lack of shoes and clothing. He'd been in worse situations, he could get through this. 

Voldemort snarled passionately as he followed the broken twigs and bramble, thinking of all the horrible tortures he was going to inflict on Harry once he caught up with him. He couldn't have gotten very far, not the way he was dressed. Gritting his teeth, he pressed on faster, determined to end this hunt.

Harry cupped his forehead with his hands. His eyes were useless anymore, the pain blinded him, the darkness swallowed up everything else. He knew someone was following him now, he could hear them in the distance shouting his name. He didn't care, he knew once they caught him he'd be killed. There was no sense in giving up then, nothing to lose. He held one hand out as he continued on to brace himself from bumping into anymore trees and pushed on.

"There you are," whispered Voldemort, spotting Harry blindly stumbling deeper into the woods. A wicked smile curled up as he watched him stumble and fall to his knees. 

Harry yelped in pain as his scar seized up all remaining energy and will left in his body to keep him moving. Without being able to see, he knew there could be only one person in the world standing behind him now; Lord Voldemort. His hands dropped to his sides and his head fell forward in defeat. 

"There's nowhere to go. You just wasted a lot of my time doing this, you know," Lord Voldemort sucked on his teeth angrily looking down at the boy in front of him. "Not to mention ruining my clothes and shower having to come after you. I should put you over my knee and... well, later. We'll discuss your punishment when we get back. Now get up, Potter!"

"You!?" squeaked Harry, looking up behind him, seeing Tom. "But I thought... where's Voldemort? I felt him here!" He scrambled around on all fours confusedly. The pain had relented the moment he was found, but he'd only assumed it was because Voldemort had found him.

'You really are that stupid, aren't you?' mused Voldemort. He shook his head sadly as Harry sat back on his heels in a stupor, trying to understand what had happened. "Get up, Harry. We've got to get back now," he hissed, but the look on the boy's face began showing clarity, as if he was beginning to understand. He panicked, not wanting him to figure it out yet, and plunged his hand in his pocket for his wand. 

~*~

"I see you found your friend," 

Voldemort froze, unable to determine which direction the voice had come from. He clutched Harry tightly, covering his face up with his hand. He looked behind him and spotted Draco standing in the kitchen with him, watching him intently. 

Voldemort tossed on a fake smile and nodded. "Yes, he's asleep, very tired. Must get him to bed, if you'll excuse me," He tried to push past, but Draco blocked his path.

"Is this another one of my father's toys? He looks nice. Take him to my room, whore. I'd like him for tonight," he said arrogantly. 

Voldemort's jaw dropped. He really should have told Draco right off who he was, but the fun of playing someone else seemed too exciting at the time. "I said he was tired," he repeated. He glanced around the kitchen and spotted a tea cloth. He inched over to it and groped out with the hand hiding Harry's face, but turned around to hide it from Draco's vision. Tossing the towel over Harry's face, he turned back around. "Go away little boy, this isn't one of your father's toys. He's my toy. Understand?"

"No, I don't. Are you disobeying me? Do you know who I am? Now give me that boy right now, or I'll make sure Father hears about this," Draco stepped forward as Voldemort stepped back. Light green eyes blazed fiery red in anger, sending Draco into shock and Harry arching back in agony. Voldemort clutched Harry into his chest as he loomed over the pointy faced blond, wanting nothing more than to slaughter him right there.

"Okay, okay.. you can keep him- for now. I'm tired anyways. I do expect to see him tomorrow though, as I'll be staying here for a week with my friends. We need company, it can get rather boring up here without the right sort." He reached out and stroked his fingers along Harry's limply hanging arm, smiling softly. He looked back up at Voldemort as the hands holding the boy clenched tighter, and winced. The eyes were glowing red, staring down at him with fury. "Well, good night." he said, and high-tailed it back to his room.

tbc

  



	5. Tormwail

warnings- slash, some angst, light-hearted fluff, a little violence, and a bit of language

Rated R

HP-TR

This is a parody, there will be plenty of ooc'ness and improper uses of the english language.

Playing Hero

part 5

The soft sounds of pleasant sleep irked Lord Voldemort to no end. There was no peace for him, no happy slumber to be had. He paced the floors, wearing holes into the Persian rugs, deep in thought. It seemed every single moment he'd lose himself in a suitable way over of the obstacle he'd created, Harry would make some sort of noise to snap him out of it, losing the brilliant vision forever. 

The thought of throwing a pillow over his face occurred to him more than once, but he didn't want to endanger the newfound trust the boy seemed to be showing him. Having personally kept him out of the clutches of Draco Malfoy and his two best friends, Harry was now looking upon him with slight, albeit very slight, _trust_. 

A loud knocking at the door snapped Voldemort's eyes to the sound. He knew who was on the other side, and what he wanted. The game would have to end soon, Draco was becoming quite a problem anymore. 

"Hey, Tom!"

Harry sat up quickly, shaken from the loud words. His breath came out in quick puffs, his hands gripped the sheets covering him. "You're not going to let him in, are you?" he whispered frantically, eyeing Voldemort for answers. 

"No, of course not, go back to sleep," he whispered, keeping his eyes locked on the door. Inwardly, he dared the haughty boy to try and open it. It would be quite refreshing to take a bit of frustration out on the spoiled lad. The same spoiled lad he allowed to call him a bint, tart, slut, and whore over the last two days. Whatever he said, it was pushed away, reluctantly allowed, in order to keep the identity of the *mystery guest* hidden. He couldn't possibly permit Draco to know of Harry's whereabouts. Draco was intelligent, he may use it against him, even unwillingly so. And Crabbe and Goyle... if they were even one quarter as stupid as their fathers, they would be more trouble then they were worth. Voldemort shuddered at the thought of them. 

Draco leaned against the door, sniggering in his hand. A rolled up newspaper was clutched in his hand, begging to be red aloud. "Is your little cherry boy still in there with you? I think you both might want to hear this!" he shouted at the door. "My father sent me this paper, it's got an article about Lord You-Know-Who in it. He says you might want to see it, Tom, for whatever reason. He said you'd be **_very_** interested in it."

Voldemort flinched. Harry sat up fully, preparing himself for the article to be read. His eyes darted back and forth between him and the door with keen interest, watching every tiny bead of sweat form over the other boy's brow. His hands were clasped, resting in his lap, his back straight. 

Draco must know who he was. Lucius must have told him. Of course he told him! He'd been acting so funny about his new appearance, surely he'd spilled the information. 

"Shall I read it then?" shouted Draco, a soft titter in his voice was plainly heard. 

"What's a cherry boy?" said Harry curiously. Voldemort growled lowly back at him. 

"Draco, I'll be out in a moment," he replied, keeping his eyes fixed on the boy in his bed. Harry sighed and slumped down into the bedding in defeat. "I'm afraid this might be something you shouldn't hear yet, boy. Just go back to sleep like I told you." 

Voldemort opened the door carefully, not allowing Draco any sight into the room. He closed and locked the door, then gave the wicked blond a rough shove into the hallway. "I've killed finer people than you for much less than this. What do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

"Er.." said Draco, looking up at the glowing red eyes boring holes into him, "what my father told me to do. Give his friend this paper." He held up the newspaper with a nervous hand, not understanding why the other boy was so angry. He was just having a bit of fun, that's all. 

The paper was snatched away and the blond was dragged into the kitchen with him. Draco was shoved into a chair. Voldemort pulled another up in front of him and sat heavily down in it. Unrolling the paper, his eyes honed in on the lead story. 

**Lost in Love**_: A story of pain and heartache from a Death Eater, who asked us to call him Tormwail. By Rita Skeeter _

He sits in the shadow, for fear of revealing his true identity. A Death Eater, he calls himself, although this reporter cannot see the likelihood in that. He slumps in his chair, his hair spiked up in dirty tufts, reflecting his prowess upon the future. 

"I love him," he says through deep, heart-felt moans of sorrow, "he means everything to me." I watch as his silver hand brushes crocodile tears away from his chubby cheeks. Pools of them have escaped his grasp, forming a drizzle between the saliva leaking from the corners of his mouth, now running down into the collar of his lovely black robe. 

"He left a week ago. He promised to be back soon. We're all waiting for our beloved master to return to us," 

Rumours and speculations about an erroneous affair between the Dark Lord and Mr. Lucius Malfoy have run rampant around the darkened circle. Hundreds of followers are growing anxious about them, literally pining in the open over someone so gruesome. 

"He's beautiful! I love him!" cries a woman, who asked to be called Voldie's lady; but looks strangely similar to escaped convict, Bellatrix Lestrange. She, too, has come forward in hopes of her master's safe return. She frets, wringing her bony hands together as she reflects on his whereabouts. Her voice pierces the room, and we suspect she may possibly be part banshee. "Lucius is to blame! He's always getting the best of everything, why wouldn't he want the Master, too?!?"

Tormwail sniffles as she leaves the room, watching her despair as a likeness of his own utter anguish once more seeps out through tears and guttural moans. "And now Harry Potter has gone missing. He was our only hope of keeping our master grounded. Maybe Lucius stole them both away. I wouldn't put it past him! Lucius Malfoy is the devil! He is a spoiled prat, and we'll kill him if he returns to our circle!!" 

It is true; for some time now, our hero has been missing, but authorities believe there is a connection between the Golden Boy and his blood relatives. Cousin, Dudley Dursley, said he saw him last under questioning, having left him unprotected with two of his gang members. "They hated him! I would have helped, but I was drinking, and forgot about him," he was quoted as saying. Gang members at the scene were unavailable for comment. Two are currently at St. Mungo's hospital, under care for Unforgivable curses performed on them, presumably used by Mr. Potter, himself. 

Albus Dumbledore denies these charges, adamantly putting his foot down on the matter. "Harry would never use magic, especially wandless magic on unarmed muggles unless his life was in danger. Harry, if you see this, please come back. We're all very worried about you, my boy,"

In the end, I pass several tissues to the supposed "Death Eater" in hopes to control his cries. He swears to me that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is a changed man, at least physically. "He's not the pale, spidery-finger bloke you remember. He's gorgeous," I, myself, would love to believe this, but as you know, Death Eater's can be very manipulating. 

__

Voldemort swallowed hard. Everything was getting much more complicated. Draco and his friends refused to leave, informing him that the floo network had been disabled in the cottage for their own protection. Lucius' only way of communication was now by owl, and there was absolutely no way to get a birthday present for Harry without disaparating away; leaving him alone with the younger Malfoy while he was gone. 

Draco shifted in his chair, having read the article himself. "So, is it true?" he said, looking cattishly curious. 

"Huh?" Voldemort dropped the paper in his lap and stared up at the boy.

"About You-Know-Who," murmured Draco, allowing a tiny smile to curl. "He's handsome now. My father says I'd be very surprised by him if I were to see him."

Voldemort sighed heavily, letting himself fall deeper into his chair. "He's a cursed man, Draco... a cursed man,"

"Yeah, but is he good-looking?" he said, caring less about silly curses.

With a growl, Voldemort stood up and walked away, leaving the young blonde alone in the kitchen. 

tbc

Sorry this took so long to get out, I was on vacation. Thank you all for the kind reviews! 


	6. The magic of love

I stopped writing this a while ago because I had gotten a slightly nasty review. I really didn't think my skin was so thin, but it really had affected me badly, and for that I'm sorry. I wrote this as a lark, it's supposed to be silly and not make much sense. It's terribly OOC, and if people don't like it, I will deal with that now. I decided to post again and I dedicate this to Kat, who wrote me the sweetest review- it just really made my whole day. Thanks to everyone who checked back after all this time to see if I'd updated, I won't stay away again, I will finish this now.

* * *

Playing Hero

Part 6

Lucius sat back in an overstuffed chair, mulling over the dread he was faced with. He had barely been able to retain his status as acting Dark Lord while Voldemort was away on holiday. He was angrier than anything else; those simpletons had thoroughly tarnished his reputation.

Wormtail knocked heavily at the door outside of the library, in hopes his fellow Death Eater might listen to him. Bellatrix pouted next to him, her back against the door. She chewed on her overgrown nails, listening to both men bicker between rooms. "I don't know what came over me, Lucy! I didn't mean to say those awful things about you! Can't we just make up and forget about the newspaper article?"

"It's a bit late for that! My mother reads that paper, you twat! I didn't want her to know I was a Death Eater, she'll be so disappointed!" he cried back at the door.

Bellatrix whirled around and rammed her nails into the wood. "Lucius, please forgive me!"

Lucius crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. He didn't like the company he was being forced to watch over. He wallowed in self-pity, wishing he could think of something, do anything to be able to return to his château.

"Did you hear me, Lucius!" screamed Bellatrix. He said nothing back; there was just no talking to that woman. He waited for her to continue her torment, but they went silent. Curious, he stood up and tiptoed over to the door, placing his ear against the wood in hopes they'd finally given up and left him alone. What he heard gave him a jolt. Soft whimpers penetrated the cherry barrier, sounding very suspicious. They were still there, but something was happening between them he never thought possible. Wormtail was mumbling something under his breath. There was shuffling on the floor, tapping, and light bumping against the door. Lucius cringed as Bellatrix began grunting louder, listening as it mingled with Wormtail's nasally and heavy breathing. Within a minute, they both groaned out in unison, pounding their bodies together in a rocking motion, threatening the frame or the library doors, and their only support.

"You two can not honestly be having se—"he hissed as flung the door open. Instantly, Bellatrix and Wormtail fell inside, knocking Lucius flat on his back. Bella hung against the door, attempting to wrench her fingernails out. "She, uh… she's stuck," said Wormtail, shrugging.

* * *

Harry looked around the darkened bedroom with grim frustration. Sure, Tom was nice, but that worried him all the more. Death Eaters weren't supposed to be nice. Tom was... handsome and sweet and could be kind when he wasn't annoyed. No matter how angry he got, no matter how many times Harry had tried to escape or said things to upset him, he managed to keep his temper in check. Certainly not the type of thing one would do to further their own ambitions with the Dark side.

Harry sighed. Tom was probably just a babysitter. A wet behind the ears Death Eater wannabe who probably couldn't perform a single Unforgivable if his pathetic life demanded it. He looked down at his clothing; seeing it clearly screaming 'Malfoy' through and through. Why would Malfoy allow him to stay in his holiday home, alone with the enemy? And Draco Malfoy was here now with the goon twins. Of course they didn't even know of his existence in the manor, but that wasn't the point. How long could Tom keep him a secret from the prying little minds of those three?

And then there was Voldemort.

Tom told him Voldemort had brought him there, himself. He had delivered him straight to the chateau with his own hands. How many times had he felt him since his awakening in the home? Several, it seemed. He must be popping in from time to time, checking in on his stay. But why hadn't he just killed him? Why hadn't he come to taunt him? It seemed very much out of sorts. Their last encounter was a mere season back, and Voldemort had clearly stated directly to him that he was a pain in the arse that needed removing.

Maybe this was all a huge lie? No. He had seen Lucius Malfoy only a few days back with his own blurry eyes. And worse, Lucius had seen him. He wouldn't keep this sort of thing from his master; this would be exactly what he would use to profit with.

Harry cringed. It was true; Voldemort knew he was here. He was allowing Tom to keep him hidden here for some bizarre reason, keeping him out, and away from the rest of the world.

The door opened slowly, and Tom dragged himself back into the room.

Harry squinted to see the look on the other boy's face, but it was hard to distinguish sadness from anger. He certainly hoped it was sadness though, which was a lot less painful to handle when it came to Death Eaters.

"How important is Draco Malfoy at your school- Would he really be missed?" mused Voldemort to the boy, then held up a hand to keep him silent. "No, don't answer that. I really need Lucius on my side right now, even if he is… acting very… strangely."

Harry scowled. "He's a prat. I hate him nearly as much as I hate Voldemort,"

Tom nodded in understanding, but Harry wasn't finished. "But at least he's not as ugly."

Tom bit his lip.

Harry tapped his chin, deep in thought. "Or uses these silly, overdramatic speeches no one cares about whenever makes his presence known,"

"Okay, I think I unders-"

"…or is he half as incompetent!" cried Harry. He was on a roll now. "I swear Voldemort is about as thick as my Uncle Vernon sometimes. He can't even kill a baby proper—"

"I get it!" cried Tom, shaking with anger.

Harry looked up and smirked. "Oh, did I hit a nerve? You know, being Malfoy's twink got you this gig, but do you really think he or Voldemort really respects you? I've heard all about them and their "ranks", Tom. Getting to the top involves a lot more than sleeping your way there,"

"Sleeping my--- I did not sleep my way anywhere. I earned my respect a long time ago," He walked quickly over to where Harry was sitting and loomed over the young boy, fists clenched. The lightning bolt scar on Harry's forehead began to sizzle, and intense throbbing pain built up behind his eyes. He gripped the sheets under his hands to keep him sitting upright.

Voldemort shoved him back and climbed on top on him before he could recover. Deep instinct overcame him. He found himself snarling, inhaling the scent of fear, ignoring the throbbing in his temples. No longer would he tolerate this childish behaviour directed at him by Harry or anyone; he was in charge now. He pulled Harry to the head of the bed, twisting his arms up from his sides, shackling them in their place with his handcuffs.

"Ow, Tom, wait," cried Harry. He regretted his words, knowing he had finally gone as far as he could take it. "I didn't mean it, I'm sorry."

"Is this how a Death Eater is supposed to act? Is this what you've been waiting for?" growled Tom. He pressed his lips roughly against Harry's, gnashing his teeth in hatred despite the softness.

"No..." whispered Harry against his mouth, "I'm sorry."

Tom lingered, screwing his eyes tightly shut. Slowly, he ran his hands down the length of Harry's arms, resting them on each side of his face. He sat back in confusion over bleeding-heart tenderness devastating his heart and looked down at his captive, who was eyeing him back with the exact expression. He cupped Harry's thin face and lifted his head, tilting his chin up. "Is this what you want?" he whispered.

Harry took a deep breath, blinked several times nervously, and nodded. He gripped the metal pole on the bedstead with alarm and excitement as Tom leaning into him once more, grazing his lips softly over his own. A kiss, a real kiss formed between them; something neither of them had expected. Tom sipped at him, overcome in blissful tingle growing out from deep inside. He tilted his head and parted his lips, daring to taste The-Boy-Who-Lived for himself, never wanting anything more than this.

Harry gasped, feeling the silky tongue of his kidnapper dip between his lips. He'd only been kissed once, but it hadn't felt nearly as erotic. He parted his mouth open, allowing Tom's tongue deeply inside, drugging him with each moist sweep. He pressed forward, unable to pretend he didn't want this, kissing him back.

* * *


	7. Oh, the Irony of Cliche!

A lot of exposition in this chapter, not so funny, I fear. Thanks to everyone who reviewed for me to cheer me up. I can't tell you how much better it made me feel about writing again. Oh, and 10 points to Gryffindor for being pointed out on my "skiing in the Alps" reference. Umm, maybe it's a magic mountain? Okay, you got me there… :)

Playing Hero

Part 7

"Gahh!"

"Be quiet, Hermione, do you want us to get caught?" hissed Ronald Weasley. He shuffled them both through the thick of the night towards the back door of Riddle House as stealthily as he could under Harry's invisibility cloak, despite his slight lack of coordination problem. Both he and Hermione Granger had taken it upon themselves to discover the location of their best friend, and possibly rescue him in the process.

"Then stop stepping on my foot!" she whispered back and shoved him on. Quietly, they reached the back entrance, and Hermione pulled her wand free from her jeans and pointed it at the door. "Alohomora!" Instantly, the locks clicked open, leaving the door vulnerable to their wishes.

"You've got to be kidding me, could it be that easy? I bet there's a bunch of wards guarding the place, ready to fry us into floo powder," said Ron, sounding overly dramatic. Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head. "No, your mum said that Dumbledore already swept this area for wards. There's been no indication of any extra magic protecting this place since the day Voldemort and Harry went missing."

"Then why are we here?" Surely they wouldn't be keeping Harry here if there wasn't any protection over the house. "Didn't Dumbledore say we shouldn't be snooping about?"

Hermione fought the urge to point her wand at Ron, counting to ten internally before replying. "To. Find. Out. What. Happened. To. Harry. Besides, he's not going to send any of The Order here to look things over, and I'm not about to sit in The Burrow for the remainder of the summer speculating on their meetings over this. If they won't let us in on it, we're going to investigate this for ourselves. That's what we do, Ron, that's what we've always done!"

"Oh,"

Hermione turned the knob and cracked open the door to peek inside. "I don't see anything moving about, let's go,"

Carefully, both Gryffindors stepped into the decrepit old house, cringing as each step they took on the wooden floorboards creaked under their feet. Hermione gasped, seeing a shadowed figure approaching from the end of the hall. Ron clamped his hand over her mouth and flung them both back towards the wall behind them as the short, podgy shadow grew larger and larger.

"It's Wormtail!" he whispered excitedly, seeing the rat-faced little man drag himself through the corridor, sniffing the air like a dog. His eyes narrowed in anger as Wormtail approached, scanning the halls for the source of the noises he'd heard.

Hermione lifted her wand towards him as he closed their distance, ready to curse the living hell out of him if somehow he discovered them.

"Macnair? I know you're there, I can smell you,"

Hermione lowered her wand. Wormtail stood frozen in place, only his oversized teeth chattered up and down. "You win, okay? I don't like this game anymore!"

"You're not trying hard enough!" The door Ron and Hermione had just entered flew open with a bang. A large, hooded man drudged inside carrying a gigantic executioner's axe. He lifted it over his head, holding the shaft with both hands. His black eyes gleamed with electricity through the eyeholes of the mask; he had found his prey and he was ready to strike. Wormtail cowered, backing away from him, directly towards the two hidden underneath the invisibility cloak.

Instinctively, Ron reached behind him, and amazingly found and grasped hold of a doorknob his lower back had connected with. He turned it as he prayed for it to be unlocked; cringing in horror watching Wormtail duck aside to avoid the axe blade as it came crashing down towards them. He wrapped his arm around Hermione's waist tightly, intending to dive away, but the axe narrowly missed their heads and hit the door behind them. It burst open, cracking in two, sending both sprawling back, falling hard down a flight of stairs.

Macnair pulled his hood off and gaped at the door, scratching his head. "Lovely. Look what you made me do, Pettigrew,"

Wormtail scoffed back. "You are in so much trouble… I'm telling Lucius on you,"

* * *

Landing at the bottom of the steps, Hermione groaned, rubbing her bruised hip. Ron was splayed out flat on his back in an attempt to catch his breath. Luckily, neither Death Eater noticed the pair tumbling down, bouncing off each step. They watched the top of the steps as the shadows of both men disappeared.

"What the-!" exclaimed the bushy-haired girl, yanking the cloak away from her face. She stared off to the side, head tipped in confusion.

Ron sat up and squinted in the darkness of the old cellar, zeroing in on a block of candles burning deep in the back of the room. "What is that?" he whispered, balling up the invisibility cloak around his wrist. They both stood up and tiptoed over to the other side of the large room, growing more and more confused with each step.

Photos lined the back wall, illuminated by flame and magic, glowing brighter as they approached. At first, the person in the pictures appeared to be Harry, but as they closed in, that was clearly not the case. "It's some sort of shrine to this bloke, whoever he is," murmured Hermione, finding herself instantly fascinated with the handsome teenager. None of them were headshots, as it looked like the pictures were taken from various hiding places and the boy had no idea they were being shot, but it was very obvious this person was utterly dreamy in every way.

"What are you looking at?" said Ron, sneering, watching Hermione's expression as she studied the wall.

"Hmm? Oh!" Hermione broke from her reverie and shook her head clear. Looking down, she found more moving pictures, sketches, articles of undergarments, and poetry books were scattered out across the floor. "This is really weird."

Angrily, Ron shrugged and walked over to the other side of the cellar, lighting the tip of his wand to see. Stacks of boxes littered with water-soaked papers filled the corner, spilling out in a mulchy waterfall. "Maybe there's something here on some of this parchment that'll tell us where Harry is," he said, biting his lip at the sight of the wall behind it. It was bowing in; decay set deep throughout the foundation, showing serious signs of stress. "This wall doesn't look so good. I'll bet this house is going to fall in soon."

Hermione didn't look back. She knelt down in front of the shrine to examine the sketches and other things in the pile, hoping for a clue. "Just stay away from it, you know how clumsy you—"A loud smash filled her ears before she could finish. She whipped around in a panic, only to find Ron lying beneath a pile of rubble and an old lockbox. Quickly, she rushed to his side, tossing chunks of wall that broke apart in her fingers like wet chalk.

"Macnair, you've made the cellar collapse! Yes, you! I heard it fall in just now. If my private work has been damaged, I'll kill you! Oh, yeah, you'd better run!" Shouts and heavy footfalls pounded overhead. Hermione grew extremely nervous and quickened her pace. Within a few seconds, Ron was free and both stood up, pointing their wands out in front of them towards the cellar steps. Hermione cradled the ancient lockbox against her chest, knowing that if it had been hidden in the foundation of the house that it was probably important.

Lucius trudged down the stairs, oblivious to the intruders. He ran over to his shrine and sighed in relief seeing nothing of his things destroyed.

Hermione growled deep in her throat and stepped forward into the light. "You!" she cried hotly, unable to contain her emotion. "Stupefy!"

Before he'd even had a chance to turn around- Lucius fell to the floor, very much unconscious. Ron whimpered, screwing his face up. "Hermione?" he squeaked, "What did you do?"

"Open that box up while I levitate Mr. Malfoy. I want to know what's inside."

Surprisingly, the lock holding it closed had rusted away years before. Ron opened the box and dipped his hands inside. "It's some birth certificates and family tree stuff on the Riddle fa…m..— oh my god!" he shouted, shocked at what he was reading.

Hermione whirled around, breaking her spell contact. Lucius plummeted to the floor with a thud. She looked back, cringing. "Oops,"

"You're not going to believe this!" he cried, shoving some papers against Hermione's chest. She turned back and held them up to Ron's wand-light to scan them over.

'Well, well, well," she said, grinning from ear to ear. She shoved the papers into her jeans and re-levitated Lucius up into the air. "So, you're all powerful master, who we thought was a half-blood, isn't even that, Mr. Malfoy? No wonder you've all followed him around for nearly a century, caring less what his true origins were, you filthy perverts! Ha! You've all been worshiping a wizard-muggle-veela!"

* * *

Lying in bed with a lazy smile curled at each corner of his lips, Tom allowed himself to rest for the first time in years. Worry, anger, dread, and hate drifted away into the depths of his mind, shoved aside but the unmistakable emotion of silly happiness. He propped himself up, resting his chin in his hand as he lie next to Harry to watch him sleep. Never in his entire life had killing muggles or world domination been the least important agenda for the day; that would have to be dealt with later, once he could get his new-found beloved to understand him and his cause. He went over it in his head; a gut wrenching speech confessing his true identity and his devotion to the boy who had showed him more about life in one night than he had ever experienced before during his entire existence.

Harry groaned and rolled onto his side. Tom wasn't sure, but he'd imagined a slight grimace cross over the sleeping boy's features before he buried his head under his pillow. He slapped his hand against his forehead, feeling the 'not-as-frequent-but-still-extremely-annoying' headache returning. With a frown, he crawled off the bed and strolled to the toilet to freshen up. He looked back at Harry but his face was hidden. Surely he wasn't having a bad dream; not after the amazing breakthrough they'd made the night before.

He stood there, frozen in place, his mouth half opened. "Harry, I'm—I'm…" he said, stumbling over his words. "I'm not who you think I am, I don't know how to say this."

"Then stop trying and go back to bed," mumbled Harry. He wrapped his arm around the pillow covering his head and rolled onto his other side, away from Tom.

Taking in a huge, deep breath, Tom opened his mouth again, intent on finishing the sentence. "Harry, my name isn't Tom. Well, not anymore. My name is—"A loud knock at the door sent him juddering in place. He gawked at the door, knowing it could only be one other person in the home stupid enough to interrupt him during his single moment of purity. "Go. Away!" he shouted angrily.

"I don't think my father pays for you to treat me like this," sniggered Draco from the other side of the door.

Harry sat straight up, pillows flying off the bed. "Err, Malfoy pays you?" he cried, looking aghast. "Pays you for _what_?"

Tom blushed scarlet. "Nothing, he lies." Suddenly, the thought of telling Harry the truth meant a lot more than it had a moment ago. "Listen to me very carefully. I am not being paid by anyone to be here, I am—"

"There's an owl out here with a message for you. I just thought you'd like to know," injected Draco. His ear was pressed against the door. "And, um, please hurry. She's a very angry owl. She's attacking Crabbe."

Shouts and breaking glass echoed into the room. Harry ignored it, keeping his eyes on Tom. "Wasn't there something you wanted to tell me?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"My eye!" Crabbe screamed, running around the house with a large, snowy owl attached to his neck. Goyle chased behind with his wand, firing off a volley of counter spells that bounced around the chateau, littering the walls with crispy holes.

"I, uh, yeah. Maybe I should get that first though," he replied, pointing at the door.

Harry crossed his arms and sighed heavily. "Sure, fine,"

Tom gaped back. "What? Two minutes ago you had no interest in hearing what I had to say and now that I need to pry an owl off of a dying boy's throat, you're upset?'

"Just do hurry," Harry rubbed his scar as it flared up in pain. "I think Voldemort is close. I don't want to be alone here."

With a nod, Tom left the room. He ran down the hall with Draco in tow, tackling Crabbe as he passed by. The owl detached herself instantly and flew off, resting down on a small table. Tom got up and walked carefully towards her, leaving Draco and Gregory to tend to their friend.

"C'mere, girl, I won't hurt you," he cooed. The owl stood its ground; beak open, eyes squinted, appearing very untrusting of the tall boy. With nimble fingers, he untied the cord wrapped around her leg and removed several letters addressed to Harry, birthday cards, to be precise. Tom groaned; it was Harry's birthday and he'd forgotten.

He'd have to do something about that.


	8. Veela Trouble

Playing Hero

Part 8

Harry sat anxiously on the edge of the bed, letting his feet dangle off the side like a child. His scar throbbed in a dull ache, as it had over the last hour. Lord Voldemort was worried. Something had him spooked; there was someone close to him that he didn't trust. That disturbed Harry greatly. He worried it could be Tom, and that would be bad. In the short time he'd been held captive in Lucius Malfoy's summer home, he'd grown very fond of the young Death Eater in training. As icy as he tried to act, Harry knew deep down that there was warmth in him. He rubbed his eyes, wishing he could see him clearer.

The bedroom door creaked open and Tom slid inside, shutting and locking it behind him. He was showered and dressed, looking at Harry anxiously. "I have to go out for a while. Can I trust you not to try and escape, or do I have to handcuff you to the bed again?"

Harry rolled his eyes, pretending he was insulted by the remark. Of course he was going to try and escape. Tom was great and all that, but he was still serving under the leadership of the one man who really, really hated him. "How long will you be gone?" he said, shrugging indifference.

Tom glanced back at the door. It was solid, but it was only wood. If Draco and his pals tried hard enough, they could pry it open well before he'd be returning. "A few hours, I suppose… I have to find something." he said distractedly, pondering over several locking spells in his head. He pulled his wand out and cast a few spells on the door, testing each one with several counter spells. Satisfied with the security, he turned to the bathroom door, repeating the locking spell.

Harry sighed softly, dejected. Without a wand, getting through either door would be very difficult.

Tom crossed the room and stood in front of him, smiling with assurance. Looking deeply into Harry's sparkling green eyes, he cupped each side of his face and leaned forward, claiming his mouth with a supple kiss. His fingers slid down the length of his neck, across his collarbone, and entwined behind Harry's back. Lifting him away from the bed, they embraced awkwardly as Harry slipped his arms around Tom's neck. He bent forward, Harry stood on his toes, wildly exploring each other's mouths with sweeping tongues.

The brilliance of a silly crush wound its way throughout his body as they parted, sending shivers over his flesh. He stood back, touching his lips with the tips of his fingers, watching Harry blush scarlet with the mutual feeling. He opened his mouth, wanting to tell him that he'd miss him; that it really meant something to him for once, that maybe, just maybe he might be falling in love--but he stopped. Never in his life had he said those words to anyone. They seemed strange, foreign in a way, shedding the giddy emotion crawling over him like a slap across the face.

Things were moving too fast, much to fast for him to handle. The Dark Lord doesn't tell anyone he'll miss them. "I... umm, err... I have to go now."

Harry blinked. "What? That's it?"

"Jolly good. I'll be back soon," Needing to leave, Tom held his wand up in the air and apparated away without another word.

"Nice," Shrugging, Harry nibbled on his bottom lip and made his way to the bedroom door.

As he approached, an electric static filled the air, stifling his movements. He inched closer with great effort, cringing and twitching from muscle spasms until the pain became nearly unbearable. Panic rose up into his heart, finding himself effectively crippled. He fell to the floor, digging his fingernails into the plush carpet in order to drag himself away. Breaths were short, his lungs constricted against the magical barrier. His hands went limp on the floor. Struggling to take a breath, Harry whimpered into the carpet.

It was over. He was such a fool to have thought he could escape again. A minute before he was in the arms of the man of his dreams, now he was going to die like a chump under the foot of the door, when he was supposed to the saviour of the wizarding world.

But then… it stopped.

The wards dissipated into nothing. Harry looked around through blurry eyes, but Tom hadn't returned.

* * *

Draco winked at Gregory as he shoved his wand back into his jeans pocket. "Who does he think he is, trying to ward my doors? This place is a Malfoy home. You can't simply close something off without a Malfoy being able to open it here,"

"Well, c'mon, I'm really horny," said Greg, jerking his head towards their prize. Together, they walked down the hallway towards the master bedroom.

* * *

"Look at it, Mr. Malfoy!" shouted Hermione. She thrust the birth certificate in his face. "It says right here that Tom Riddle Sr. was half veela. You can't deny this evidence,"

"Tim Whowhatshisname? I don't know who you're talking about," Lucius turned his face to the side and closed his eyes, snubbing the girl's attempts to sway him. He rattled the chains shackling his hands above his head aggressively, hoping she'd back away. She didn't.

"We know very well and good that you know who we're talking about. You were the one who slipped Tom Riddle's diary into Ginny's cauldron. Now open your eyes and look at this before I open them for you!" she hissed, shaking the paper in her fist.

Lucius stood tall against the grungy wall of the Shrieking Shack. He was chained up like a slave, being treated like a common prisoner by two obnoxious fools. It would only be a matter of time before his beautiful master came to rescue him. He would tolerate the brutality of standing in the same room with a muggle born breathing down his neck until such time, laying in wait like a damsel in distress until his prince rode up to save the day.

Ron felt a chill of excitement run through him. He loved it when Hermione was really bossy. "Hey, keep it down. Someone might hear you," he said, wagging his eyebrows at her.

"Hush-"she turned towards Ron, intending on scolding him, but stopped, seeing the unmistakable look of lust in his eyes. She blushed in understanding, crinkling her nose as she turned back towards her prisoner. "Open your eyes, Malfoy." Lucius gasped, hearing her tone thicken against him. She grabbed the lapels of his dinner jacket roughly and yanked him toward her to get his undivided attention. "I said open them… NOW!"

Ron panted like a dog while watching her work her magic.

"When Mr. Riddle found out his wife was a witch he panicked and left, because he knew he'd be cut off from his inheritance if he mixed his blood with their kind. His family didn't like wizards, you see."

"No, you're not going to trick me. You can't make me believe your filthy lies, girl," he replied haughtily, feeling every bit as proud of his own self as he was for his master.

Hermione glanced back at Ron for a brief moment, fanning her eyelashes at him. Ron sighed, crossing his legs to hide his obvious arousal. "Make him believe, baby, make him believe,"

"Huh?" Lucius looked over at Ron strangely.

"Ooh yeah, I will," purred Hermione. She was swaying her hips, breathing heavy through her nose, glaring up at him with pure hatred. Lucius gaped between them as the realization slowly set in that these two hooligans were actually getting off on torturing him.

"Well, I never!" he shouted in disgust. "Stop humping me this instant, little mudblood girl!" He jumped up and down, tugging against his shackles, but Hermione held on tighter.

Ron gnashed his teeth, curling up behind his best friend to meet her rhythm. "That's right, fight it. Fight her bossiness, Malfoy!" He wrapped his arms around her waist, sniggering at Lucius' horrified expression.

"Oh, Ron, he's so disturbed!" cried Hermione. She threw her head back in ecstasy, leaning back into Ron's embrace. "Oh god, I can't wait any longer. Let's go write the ransom note!"

* * *

Harry scrambled away from the door until he reached the side of the bed. He was weak, his head pounded in pain and muscles trembled in recovery, but he was alive. Pulling himself up, he managed to climb back into bed for some much needed rest. Unfortunately…

"Knock, knock!" Harry winced and looked back at the door in shock. Draco chuckled, pointing his wand at the doorknob. "Alohomora!"

Gregory jiggled the knob but it was still locked. "It's still locked," he said, shrugging.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Oh, you think?" He thrust Goyle aside and braced himself against the door. "Whoever you are in there, come unlock the inside. It's very simple, I'm sure even you can manage that."

"Go away!" shouted Harry. He didn't have the strength to deal with this at the moment.

"Break it down!" ordered Draco, shoving Gregory up against the wooden barrier. "You're going to get it when we get inside, cherry boy! You'll be sorry you defied me!"

Harry pulled his duvet up to his neck, knotting it in his hands as Goyle pounded against the door with all his girth. It would only be a matter of minutes before the frame relented to his force. "Stop or I'll tell Tom, I swear it!" he cried, rubbing his scar with a shaky hand, feeling his stinging headache grow stronger.

The door flew off its hinges and hit the floor. Gregory and Draco jumped inside, both looking very fiery. Harry pulled the duvet over his head, hoping beyond all hope they would not notice him. Within seconds, Draco pounced on top of him and grabbed hold of the duvet. "There you are," he said, his voice dripping with a bittersweet acid. He tugged on it, fighting Harry's grip, baring his teeth at the shock of black hair poking out over the top of the duvet.

"Geroff me!"

Harry flailed under the covers, twisting himself up in the thick cloth. Suddenly, he groaned and went slack with defeat, finding himself trapped under the weight of his nemesis and completely mummified. "Finally!" huffed Draco. Slowly, he peeled the covers down in anticipation of seeing this new Death Eater whore, but then he saw it. Shocked, he sat back, blinking rapidly, staring down at the vivid impression of a lightning-bolt shaped scar. "No, it can't be…"

Gregory lit up, pointing to the boy. "Hey! He's got a scar just like Potter!"

Draco wrenched the covers down over Harry's face. "It _IS_ Potter, you dolt!" Furiously, he grasped Harry's chin with rough fingers. "What are you doing here?"

Harry growled under his breath. "Lord Voldemort brought me here,"

"Don't say his name!" shrieked Goyle.

"Oh, sure, Lord You-Know-Who brought you here to spend the holiday sleeping with Tom," Draco squeezed Harry's chin, forcing his mouth to make fishy-lips. "I think I… I,"

Draco felt a sudden wave of desire hit him like a brick. Finding his self floating in a drugged-like state, he relaxed, seeing his greatest rival with new eyes for the first time since they'd met at 11 years old. He stared dazedly down at the charming face, entranced with a powerful grip of desire. His lips parted, wet with the wanton need to press his mouth over Harry's, to taste his tongue, to melt directly into him.

"When did you get so pretty, Potter?" he cooed, startling Goyle into a double-take.

"Draco, you alright, mate?" said Gregory, prodding his sausage link finger on his best friend's shoulder.

Harry had seen that look before; that wicked smirk of a hunter perched over his prey. "Uh, Mafuhh, wha evah yoh sinking aout, 'on't, " he said as best as he could.

"Shh, don't speak," he whispered tenderly, "don't ruin this moment." He leaned in to him, noses touching, brushing his pouting lips against Harry's.

Goyle recoiled, watching Draco loose all control of his self in the presence of The-Boy-Who-Lived, drooling, struggling to hold him down. "Mate, stop," he half-whispered, his hand hovering over Draco's back. Harry's eyes were as large as saucers. He whined pitifully beneath his embrace, but he was trapped, helpless, and once again in a situation well beyond his control.

* * *

Standing in a dusty bookstore centred on Knockturn Alley, Tom planted the palm of his hand against his forehead. Something was wrong. Dropping the books he had chosen to purchase as Harry's birthday presents; 'Turning to the Dark Side and Not Feeling Guilty About It' and 'Death Eaters and the Rebels Who Love them'; he hastily pulled his wand from his cloak and apparated away with a bang back to the chateau.

_Thanks so much for all the kind support you've given me. I don't want to fear anyone off if they have honest, constructive criticism for me though, I want to improve as a writer and would love to hear from you._


	9. The Riddle

I took a small break to wait to read HBP and digest it before I continued. I promise I won't add any spoilers into this in case any reader hasn't read it yet. It was really very good! I highly recommend it if you adore Tom as much as I do! All I'll say is "Lots of Tom! Lots of Tom!"

Playing Hero

Part 9

The moment he popped back into the bedroom of the chateau, Tom drew his wand up and scanned the area heatedly with owl eyes - but the room was empty.

The door lay broken and crushed on the floor. The walls in the hallway were littered with blackened burn marks. It was obvious to Tom that someone had cast a fury of ill-directed spells in a struggle. His heart beat against his ribcage and he gritted his teeth, stepping over the pile of rubbish, in order to find Harry. A loud bang rang throughout the home, jarring him with another jolt of shock. Shouts and lights bounced from wall to wall, leading into the lounge. Tom gripped his wand tighter and stepped inside.

Harry stood against the wall in the back of the room, crouched lowly and holding out a wand. His eyes darted from Draco and Gregory over to Tom. He appeared to be extremely nervous; his bared knobby-knees knocked together and his wand hand trembled to stay pointed. He looked like a trapped animal in an oversized silk pyjama top. To his side, Vincent Crabbe sat in a kneeling position with Harry's other hand twisted into his pudding-bowl hair; his eyes screwed shut, his mouth twisted in fear, and his pants wet on the crotch. Tom grimaced unpleasantly at the sight.

"What's going on here? How did Harry get out of the room?" Tom shouted angrily at the two Slytherins, yet he kept his eyes and wand fixed on his prisoner.

Draco wiped away a line of drool from his chin and turned to face the uptight Death Eater in training with an air of disgust. "You've been hiding Harry Potter here all this time and thought you could keep it a secret from me in my own home? I want credit, too! I want the Dark Lord to know that I've helped out in… in this… in whatever it is you're doing here, so he'll respect me!"

Tom's head lolled from the irony. "Yeah, you've done a real bang-up job here so far," He jerked his wand towards Harry. "Is that your wand he's brandishing, Draco?"

"Back away, Tom. I don't want to hurt Crabbe; I just want to go home," said Harry. He swallowed hard in his throat at his predicament, faced with holding his own captive, after being nearly molested and now half naked in front of three very dangerous followers of Voldemort. His scar burned white hot under his sweaty sweeps of black fringe, but he wouldn't back down, not when he'd gotten this far.

Tom shook his head softly. "I can't allow that. You're mine now and I'll never let you go again, Harry," The words slipped past his lips before he'd had time to think.

Stunned, everyone turned to look at Tom. Even Crabbe opened his eyes at the sound of pure and utter passion that has spilled forth, entrancing them all.

"That was beautiful," murmured Goyle.

"Shut up," hissed Tom. He moved the direction of the tip of his wand over to Draco then, leaving Harry reeling in a haze of confusion. "Tell me why you broke the door down?"

"They just broke in and attacked me," blurted Harry.

Goyle gasped. "I pulled him off of you, you great tosser!"

"That's how he got my wand! He's a siren, I tell you! He tried to seduce me!" shouted Draco pathetically. "Please don't tell my father I lost my wand, Tom."

"I did not! You broke in and attacked me! How can I possibly seduce you if I'm hiding while you and the gorillas are beating the door down?"

"I wasn't even there! I was in the kitchens getting a snack!"

"He put something in my drink to make me fall in love with him!"

"Draco went mad—"

"Stop it!" Tom screamed, clapping his hands over his ears. He pointed his wand at Harry, crying out "Expelliarmus!" before he could react. Draco's wand flew out of his hand against across the room. Crabbe stood up immediately, wrenching the hand in his hair behind Harry's back.

"I have him!" he cried eagerly.

"Very good," Tom walked over to them, feeling the sudden urge to hex Vincent into the wall for touching Harry. "Let him go, he's harmless now."

Harry groaned out in pain. The pain from his scar intensified and blood began dribbling down into the corner of his eye. He fell to his knees as Tom approached him, unable to hold up his own weight any longer. Crabbe released his arm and backed away quickly, fearing he had done more damage than good. It didn't help matters much when he glanced up at Tom, seeing him glaring back at him.

"I—I didn't-"He held his hands up in defence. Tom scooped up Harry into his arms and stood up. Without a word, he walked out of the room and down the hallway, back to their private quarters.

* * *

"Maybe we should rewrite it so it sounds more threatening," Hermione twirled a quill in her fingers and bit at her bottom lip. "I don't think this will be taken very seriously."

Ron sighed as he glanced over at the rubbish bin overflowing with balled-up pieces of parchment. "Its fine, Hermione, he'll get the point. How many different ways are there to ask for a swap for Malfoy?"

Hermione huffed. "Maybe we should cut off his ear or something and send it along with the note. Then Voldemort will believe us,"

Lucius choked on his saliva. "What? You can't honestly be serious, can you? You're a good guy. Good guys don't send body parts in notes!"

"Yeah, I suppose you're right," she replied, dropping her head into her palm.

Standing from the small and rickety table in the heart of the Shrieking Shack, Ron rolled up the final parchment and tied it off with a ribbon. I'm going to send this off. Hopefully, it'll reach them soon. I really miss Harry."

Lucius shook his head. "No, Ronald, please do not leave me alone with this girl again. You promised."

"I did, didn't I?" Ron handed the note to Hermione.

"Fine, I'll do it," She said, taking the note. She walked up to Lucius and stroked his chin playfully. "At least you've learned to not address me as 'Mudblood' anymore; you've got promise, Mr. Malfoy."

Lucius opened his mouth, but closed it, seeing Ron out of the corner of his eye gesturing madly for him not to egg her on. Instead, he merely smirked.

Ron let out a great sigh the moment Hermione left the room. "You've really got to watch yourself, Malfoy. She's dying to hex you again,"

"Then take her wand away! What good am I to you if I'm dead?" demanded Lucius. "I'm defenceless!" He rattled his chains, something he'd found himself doing a lot of over the last few days. Ron had promise. He was a pureblood who didn't seem overly concerned with forcing lies and scandal down his throat. He seemed the more level headed of the two, and genuinely missed his friend. Lucius wanted nothing more than to get that Potter brat away from his master and get himself away from the Mudblood, so he remained calm, listening to and guiding the young Gryffindor into doing what was necessary to quicken the arrangement.

Surely Lord Voldemort would not hesitate to make an exchange for him. Harry had proved himself an idiot who was unable to realise he was graced with the presence of his master. How dangerous could he be?

"She reminds me of Bellatrix," he murmured, almost smiling to himself at the thought of locking those two girls up together in a room. "I think she's snapped."

"Maybe, but at least her heart's still in the right place. She just wants you to see her point about You-Know-Who. He's got you all caught up in a spell. I've seen what these Veela bints do to people; they make you do things you wouldn't normally dream of doing," Ron sat down in an unstable wooden chair and leaned back to put his feet up. "She thinks she can save you, that's all."

"Save me? What about you? You're a pureblood, even if you are a Weasley. I've been told that Dumbledore is a pureblood too, and that makes you a hypocrite!" Lucius snorted, then stopped, confused by what he'd just said. "It makes you… You follow a pureblood who… and my master is a…"

Ron chuckled loudly. "She's gotten to you, hasn't she?"

"Is he really a Veela?" Lucius asked sincerely.

Ron nodded. "I reckon he is. We found those documents in his family's house, didn't we?"

"No! I refuse to believe I've been duped!" he cried, turning his eyes away from Ron's burning stare. It couldn't be possible. Hermione returned, entering the room as if floating on air, unnerving him more than he already was, causing a sound to emit from his throat like a cat coughing up a fur ball. "Gah!"

She froze in mid-step and glared back at Lucius. "Was he naughty?" She pulled her wand free from his jeans, eager to teach the elder Death Eater another lesson in manners.

Lucius shrunk back against the wall, darting his eyes to Ron for help. His torture has only just begun, but there was hope, slight hope in the eyes of the blood traitor standing beside him.

* * *

Woozy and listless, Harry felt his muscles melting away beneath his skin. The intoxicating aroma of strawberries and roses stirred at his senses, rendering him docile in a sea of semi consciousness. A small smile arched at the corners of his lips as he relaxed with the thought of having a wondrous dream, so real and alive, bubbling over his flesh, tickling his nose with vivid fragrance. No dream had ever felt as real…

Never felt…

Harry opened his eyes with a snap.

This wasn't a dream at all –

Squinting to focus, he sat up in horror upon finding himself nestled languidly in an outlandishly ornate bath, not much different from the one he'd discovered in the Prefects private bathroom. Tea rose petals littered the rim of the tub and the floor surrounding it, whist hundreds of blush stained candles flickered with brilliance against the darkened setting. Thick, strawberry-laced foam licked against his chest. Champagne chilled in an icy bucket on the other side of the bathtub, and the clinking of glass pierced the silence as a tall silhouette entered the room.

He was in an absolute pink nightmare and had no idea how he'd gotten there.

Worst of all, as he suddenly realised, he was completely naked.

Tom danced across the room, smiling cheerfully as he rested two champagne glasses on the edge of the bath. "Wonderful, you're finally awake," he breathed sexily, and stood back fully to gaze upon his masterful work. Harry scanned him top to bottom, noting to himself the lack of clothing his captor seemed to be adorning; a short smoking jacket and nothing more. Instinctively, he plunged his hands down into the foamy water, covering himself up as quickly as possible.

"What in the bloody hell is going on here?" he cried, once again fearing for his virginal safety.

Tom laughed as he untied the belt of his robe, feeling dizzy from the enchanted bath foam wafting into his nostrils. The robe slipped from his shoulders, landing at his feet in a puddle of satin. Harry gasped reflexively, gaping at the other boy as he stepped gracefully into the bath with him.

"I thought this would be a bit different, you and I sharing some time alone in a romantic setting on the evening of your birthday. Just the two us; I locked Draco and his friends in his room." Lazily, Tom reached out and wrapped his fingers around the neck of the bottle. He poured them both a drink and handed Harry a glass, who reluctantly took it. "To pow- Oops, I'm so used to saying that. To us," he said, holding his glass up in the air.

Harry nodded slightly but couldn't hold back the dread forming in his stomach. "Tom, isn't this just a bit disturbing?" He set his glass down on the rim of the bath in order to cup his hand back over his groin.

Tom leaned into the bath and kicked his feet up, crossing his ankles over the rim. "Relax, Harry. It's all that worrying you do that keeps causing all these dilemmas. I had a hell of a time healing your forehead back up after your most recent incident. I'm not really into healing magic, you know." He watched Harry run a bubbly finger over his scar in curiosity before settling in to reach his purpose. Tonight was the night; he would finally reveal himself for who he really was. "Drink up. I want you good and pissed—I mean- you need to loosen up some."

Whether it was the annoying smell of strawberries fogging his mind, or the ache inside of him to pleading with his psyche to finally release his tension, Harry shrugged and grabbed his glass. He sipped his champagne liberally, letting Tom fill it again and again, watching him charm the bottle full several times. Satisfied with the results of watching the young Gryffindor slip into drunken splendour, Tom plucked the glass away from his limp hand and tossed it over his shoulder.

"Turn around," he cooed, swirling his finger circularly in the air, "I want to wash your back."

"Okay," murmured Harry. He twisted himself around so his back was facing Tom, who quickly wrapped his arms around him, pulling him into his embrace. He sat rigidly for a moment; adjusting to the odd sensation of leaning into Tom's bare chest. The warmth against his throat slackened him as Tom's lips began a trail of kisses towards his chest.

"I don't care about anyone else, I never have," Tom whispered in certainty, pausing his lips over the dip of Harry's collarbone. Never in his life had he felt any sort of emotion towards another wizard or witch. "But I fancy you, Harry. I can't help myself."

"I fancy you too, Tom." Harry whispered back, admitting to himself at last that he enjoyed the company of the young Death Eater in training very much. The surreal barrier blocking his wanton desire began to fade from his mind. He tipped his head back, presenting his exposed throat to the boy holding him in his arms and sighed, deep and heavily.

Tom's lips moved to Harry's, his fingers lifting the smaller boy's chin up. Slowly, they kissed in adoration, and Harry found himself moving around to face him, resting in Tom's lap and wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Their passion intensified, grown to feral proportions before either fully understood how deeply lost they had truly become.

Holding each other tight, with their better judgement askew, they made love for the first time against the edge of the bath. Charmed candlelight bathed their dampened skin with a rustic glow, dancing in rhythm to their unbridled arches. They fell from the tub to the floor as one, landing softly over a thick furred rug, both mewling and panting for air and release from the torturous need that filled their hearts.

This was meant to be, Tom was convinced of that. He fell back into the plush white fur to catch his breath, holding Harry into his chest as he curled up against him. There was no guilt for what he had done. It felt so natural and perfect; everything seemed as right as rain. The time had come for him to tell him, to say the words he'd held inside for far too long.

"Harry?" Tom lifted his head to gaze upon the breathtaking beauty snuggled into his form like a cat. "I need to tell you something now, something I've wanted to tell you for a very long time."

"You killed Draco?" Harry mused aloud. He planted a tiny chaste kiss against Tom's lips before he could answer. "Sorry, go ahead, tell me."

Tom sneered, fearing he'd lost the moment. "No."

"Tell me!" Harry demanded, and climbed over Tom, pinning him against the floor. "Tell me right now or I'll tickle you to death." He grappled the other boy's wrists, restraining them above his head with one hand, and impishly ran the tips of his fingernails down his arm with the other.

Tom bucked beneath him, having never once in his life been tickled. "Oh gods, stop!"

Harry held fast, ignoring the cries for mercy. "Are you going to tell me?"

"-Please!"

"Tell me, damn you!" The tickling reached a pitch, driving the Dark Lord into a frenzy of spitting and uncontrolled spasms.

"Can't... breath,"

Harry dug deep into the rug with his knees, amazed at the power he held over the boy trapped beneath him. "I won't stop until you give in."

"Fine!" shouted Tom; unable to withstand the terror being inflicted upon him any longer. "I'll say it!"

Harry laughed with mirth and sat back, releasing his victim and crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm listening,"

Tom shoved himself up on his elbows, giddy to be free from the tickling and eager to speak. "You know puff puff how you asked me about my surname a while back, and puff puff I wouldn't tell you?" Harry nodded, still smiling cheekily at himself. "Well, that's because my name's Riddle."

The smile faded slightly as Harry sat back on his heels. "What?"

"Riddle, get it? Tom Riddle. I am Lord Voldemort, Harry."

Harry shook his head as the smile disappeared from his lips. "No you're not, you're…" His hands balled into fists at his sides as the name sank into his mind.

"I am quite sure of who I am. I can't believe you hadn't figured it out by now. Merlin, I'm glad to get that off my chest, I really feel much better getting that out!" chimed Tom. He grinned warily up at Harry, hoping he'd take it a bit better than he appeared to be taking it. "Are you alright, Harry? Look, I know we've had our differences before, but—"The words stopped short the moment Harry's fist came crashing down into his face, knocking him back against the floor. He looked up; gasping in shock as the fist soared through the air yet again, connecting swiftly against his nose, sending him head-first into the blissful state of happy unconsciousness.

_A/N: This hasn't been beta'd, nor has any other chapter, I admit. I really have had bad luck in getting one. I checked it over several times, but if you see any mistakes, I'm sorry. I'm seeing cross-eyed right now from checking it, I just hope I haven't ruined it too much. Thank you for reading; I'll try my hardest to have the next chapter up soon!_


	10. Voldemort Becomes Tom

Playing Hero

Part 10

There was nowhere to go. Magic flickered across the fractured doorframe in short bursts. Harry had learned his lesson; he would not be trying that route again. The thought of looking back at the boy on the floor behind him made him sob. There was no way that could he be Lord Voldemort.

But if he was the Dark Lord he had an opportunity to finally do something about it. Slowly, he turned back to look upon the cherub-faced boy lying peacefully on the furry rug. Walking back to the bathroom, he grabbed up the belt of Tom's robe and kneeled down next to him. He could do it; strangle the life out of him before he recovered. It would be too easy, he was completely out.

"I hate you," he whispered, letting the belt slip from his hands. He wiped a line of blood away from Tom's cheek and rubbed his fingers into the rug. "I love you." Harry stood up and took a deep breath. If he couldn't kill Tom, he'd have to escape again. For all he knew, Tom's affection was a charade and at any moment his life would end in a flash of green.

"I need a wand!" he hissed out loud, scanning the room over. His eyes stopped dead on the once normal-ish looking bed in the room and cringed; in its place stood the largest heart-shaped monstrosity imaginable. More pink flooded his eyes. Looking down, he realized he was still wet and naked. "…and some clothes." The pyjama top he'd been wearing was still the only item of clothing accessible. He threw it on and buttoned it up and began searching the room for anything to help him.

"Why can't anything go my way?" he screamed in the air, overturning every piece of furniture his hands could reach.

"Potter?" cried a voice. Harry looked at the wall towards the sound. Someone was tapping on the plaster and shouting.

"Malfoy?" Harry called back, dashing to the spot adjacent to a large moving portrait of some white-haired old woman sneering at him. "Malfoy, is that you?"

"He's going to kill us all! He's Lord You-Know-Who!" The voice was deeper, most likely Crabbe's.

Harry ran a shaky hand through his hair and pressed his ear up to the wall. "I'm trapped in here, there's nothing I can do right now except try and get out!" he said back to them.

"Are you alone in there? Where did he go? Is he coming for us?" cried Goyle, and banged on the wall precisely where Harry had placed his ear, causing the boy's ear to ring.

"Ow, watch where you tap! It's very hard to hear you from in here,"

Draco shoved the boys aside to stand against the wall across from Harry. "Potter, where is he?"

"He's on the floor in the loo. I—" A large hand slapped over Harry's mouth, cutting off his words. He found himself quickly overpowered, thrust to the floor, and looking up at the boy whose nose he'd just broken.

* * *

A snowy owl landed on the ledge of Draco's windowsill, pecking the glass with her beak. Crab screeched in horror and threw himself behind the bed. Goyle got up and let her in without thinking. Instantly, she flew through the room, landing on the centre of the bed and held out her leg. Draco smirked as he untied the note and unrolled it carefully.

"I wonder why Potter got so quiet?" said Goyle. He sat on the windowsill, resting his elbow on his knee and chin in his palm. "Maybe he got away and left us here."

Draco frowned as he read over the ransom note written in blood red letters. "They've got my father. That filthy mudblood has him!"

Crabbe peeked out over the bed and eyed Hedwig nervously. "What they got your father for?"

In a huff, Draco crumbled the note in his fist and threw it over his shoulder. "They want Potter back. They'll swap him for my father's safe return."

"Well that's easy, Draco, he's right in the next room!" injected Goyle excitedly. He slumped back into blooding a second later. "But how are we going to get to him? We're locked inside."

Crabbe bit his lip, deep in thought, shrugging. Draco, livid by now, walked sternly over to the window and pushed Goyle out of it. "The bloody window is open, you idiots- That's how."

* * *

Hermione narrowed her eyes as she watched the two men before her struggle to compose themselves. Both Ron and Lucius shambled around looking quite nervous as she approached them. "What's going on here? What were you talking about?"

"Nothing, I swear." Ron said, sure that Hermione would only hinder the sudden breakthrough he'd had with Mr. Malfoy. He was warming up to him, nearly believing the truth about his master, and he couldn't let that be destroyed.

Hermione fumed, dropping her wand to her side in disappointment. "Fine, don't tell me. Coming from the two of you it must have been babbling nonsense anyhow."

"So, you sent the ransom note off?" Ron asked, quickly changing the subject.

"Yes, of course I did," she replied, looking very smug. "I wonder how many Death Eaters he'll send when he returns Harry to us. How many unfortunate Death Eaters who will fall into my trap."

"Hermione!" screeched Ron, gritting his teeth and running his hand across his throat to signal her to stop talking.

"Trap?" piped Lucius. "What trap? You don't intend on releasing me?"

"Ha!" she bellowed, throwing her head back in laughter. "No, I have no intention of releasing you! As a matter of fact, I'm planning on capturing as many Death Eaters as I can. They all need to know what your master really is. And if they won't believe me…" She drew her wand up, pointing it at Lucius' heart. "I'm not playing around anymore. I will break this curse he's put on you, Mr. Malfoy. I'll not give up until you realise… or die."

* * *

"I want to also apologise for umm, you know…" Tom tipped his head, avoiding direct eye contact with Harry. "I wasn't really the same person then. Your parents were difficult. I'd heard there was this child of my equal that could destroy me and I just went mad. I wanted to spare your mum, but she was just so…" Harry grunted hotly through his gag. He was bound head to toe in a chair, forced to listen to the Dark Lord's heartfelt misgivings. "You know I'd remove that if you could control yourself and stop spitting on me." He said; nudging his finger into the silky cloth laced between his captor's teeth. Harry looked away in irritation.

"Don't you think I've changed? Haven't I given you my trust? I came to kill you, Harry, I won't deny that; but I couldn't. Instead, I fell in love with you," Tom cupped Harry's chin, looking deep into his eyes. "I mean that. I'm not the same person I was before. Something- something's changed since I meddled with that blasted Horcrux and gained my youth back. I feel things I've never felt before, like love and sympathy. Please believe me."

Harry's expression softened slightly as he twisted at the magical rope binding his wrists behind his back in futile. Voldemort turned away for a moment rubbing his chin. "I could make you love me, you know. My mother made my father love her," He pivoted on his heel to face Harry, looking wild-eyed. "It would be painless. You wouldn't have to think anymore thoughts about what I've done."

Harry shook his head 'No'.

"I've made my apologies. I haven't owned up to blame for anything since I started Hogwarts. Doesn't that mean anything?" Loud thumping and groans of pain echoed in through the walls, unnerving Tom to no end. He walked over to a large wardrobe adjacent to the bed and opened it. "We have to find somewhere else to go. Those boys are more trouble than they're worth."

* * *

Draco tiptoed through the garden in the back of the château like a cat. Silently, he made his way back into the home, followed closely by the others, stomping loudly behind him, stepping on every brittle twig in their path. "Could you possibly be any louder? Maybe the Dark Lord is hard of hearing and won't be able to figure out which way we've gone…" he griped, pausing to turn and sneer at them.

Crabbe frowned. "But I thought we didn't want him to know which way--Ahh!" he cried, rubbing his cheek. Draco glared darkly at him as he drew back his hand but said nothing, merely placed a finger to his lips and pointed to the front door. "Okay, sorry. Just don't hit me no more, there's still brambles stuck all over me from falling in those bushes." Goyle whimpered as he too found himself plucking prickly thorns from the seat of his pants.

"We've got to find a way to get Potter out of here. I'm sure my father said there was a port key somewhere in this place," said Draco, continuing on towards the front of the house.

* * *

Nestled deep within the Malfoy's private library, Tom sat hunched over a desk scanning over maps of the world. "Here," he said, pointing out a large land mass across the ocean from where they were, "We could go to America. I have this pen pal there we could shack up with, her name's Ravyyyn BryghteyZ and she's a misunderstood, pureblood, dark witch/princess of Elwood, and distant cousin of Snape's--"he began, but Harry snapped and cut him off.

"Don't you dare try and sneak a Mary Sue into this story! Besides, Hermione and Ron's here; they're the only family I've got left… no thanks to you,"

With a bang, Tom shoved back from the desk and stood up, running his long, spidery fingers through his hair. "It was only a suggestion. The point of hiding away from the world is 'hiding', Harry, not sticking close with your friends. We can't start over in this country and not be noticed. The whole wizarding world is looking for us."

Harry crossed his arms defiantly and leaned back against a shelving of books. "Maybe I don't want to hide. I'm not the one they're looking for for notorious reasons, you know,"

Tom sighed heavily. "We're fighting again. You promised to stop nitpicking me if I released you, remember?"

"I guess…"

With one clean sweep, Tom pushed the maps covering the desktop to the floor. Slyly, he reached out, grasping Harry's forearm, whirled him around and pinned him down against the desk. "C'mon now, I hate when we fight. Don't you want to just forget about the silly past and move on?" he breathed into the boy's heated face.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'll never forget what you've done, so stop asking me to,"

"I understand," replied Tom, frowning. He stood up and adjusted his shirt, feeling suddenly uneasy. A wave of self pity and sadness washed over him. It was something he wasn't used to experiencing. "I really… I really am sorry, Harry."

Taken aback as he straightened his own self out, Harry cocked his head like a dog as he stared blurrily into Tom's eyes. "You really are, aren't you? You're not just saying it to get to me, I can feel it."

Dumbstruck, Tom merely nodded.

Harry took a few steps back and leaned against a podium clearly marked with a large, red arrow pointing down to a small porcelain fixture of a unicorn protected under a glass dome, marked **_'The Malfoy Escape Portkey is right here, Draco'_** and cleared his throat. "I may never forget, Tom. I can't forget something so life changing and painful as to what you've done to me and everyone else who's ever only wanted the best for our world… but I can try and forgive you."

Voldemort smiled a truly genuine smile. "I'd really like to earn that forgiveness. There's something here, something between us that is unbreakable and pure, making me feel things I've never wanted to feel before. I've never had any friends, but now I can see why they're important. I've never wanted love—but now it's here, and there's nothing I can do to stop it. Believe me, I've tried."

"Oh? How so?" said Harry, arching an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Let's just say it's a good thing you don't like chicken much,"

Harry's jaw dropped. "But you ate more than I did! Are you telling me you poisoned my food?"

Tom waved his hands up in self defence. "I'm merely saying I thought about it. That is all."

"When did you decide to not kill me?"

With a soft smile, Tom walked over and took Harry into his arms. They held each other closely in the still of the library; Harry entranced with the hum of Tom's beating heart, and Tom nuzzling his chin in a mass of wild, black hair. "It was that very night, Harry, that very same night."

TBC

* * *

AN: this is unbeta'd once again. Please forgive me for any mistakes. Thanks for reading! 


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